


Living Legends

by Rainmaker221



Series: Long life lived [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Action/Adventure, Brotherhood of Steel (Fallout), Friendship, Gen, Gunners, Lessons learned, Minor Character Death, Minutemen, railroad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-05-10 01:04:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14727029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainmaker221/pseuds/Rainmaker221
Summary: Gunners, Raiders, Supermutants, Institute, give it time maybe even the Brotherhood of Steel. Allen's enemies are starting to pile up, and Allen's going to need all the help he can get. That help may just come in the form of Liam Owyn Wilson: Knight of the Brotherhood, Regulator, Lone Wanderer...and here to help. Part 5 of the Long Life Lived series





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> This kind of got away from me, but it's going to be fun to write at the very least  
> The First person to guess what band the chapter titles are based of off can request a drabblle staring any of my Fallout OC

Scientifically speaking, there's no such thing as a unique occurrence. Even if lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, it will continue to strike. Legends, heroes, champions of the causes they represent, are far from rare. Even Allen Marks, who proved himself to have certain singular talents, wasn't the only of his kind. Allen Marks was "one in a million", which means that before the bombs fell he was one of seven thousand. And if we're being honest, more than a million have come and gone since he froze, the question wasn't really "Was there anyone else like him" it was "Would he meet them".

* * *

Four people, three men and one woman, all adorned in the same brown duster stared out of the plains of the Commonwealth, even from the outskirts they could barely make out the Prydwen at the airport. "See I told you we'd get there." The woman bragged. "You got us lost twice, Lauren" The shortest man reminded, in his uniquely formal british accent. With which he managed to sound both cross and meek in equal measures. "I never said I'd get us there easily." Lauren defended. Lauren looked over the vaguely familiar landscape, she adjusted her gun so she could bat her eyes flirtatiously at the man closest to her. "You believed me, right John?" "Sure," John allowed with a shrug, peering through the scope of his rifle, " as far as you remember, were there any raider encampments nearby?" "Can't say, didn't check." "Sure, she remembers to shag the Minutemen lieutenant but not to check for danger," The short one insulted, "Sounds like you." "Liam," Lauren called, mock pouting "Dennis is being mean to me." Liam, who until now had been staring at the Prydwen, turned to his posse. "Dennis Murray," He scolded, "What have I said about mocking your fellow Regulators?" "Only do it when I'm being creative," Dennis finished. "And what have we decided to call Lauren's needs?" Liam led. "Low hanging fruit." Dennis admitted. "Try the hair." "Bitch my hair's perfect." Lauren interrupted confidently. "Gloves." Dennis probed. "Glove are cool," Lauren bragged, "And I am bulletproof." "Boots." Liam suggested. The smile dropped off of Lauren faster than a mutant after a clean head shot. "Boots are practical, Okay?" "There," Liam lectured Dennis, "Creative." "I want to wear nice heels but no, We need to travel and shit." "Guys," John interrupted, peering through his sniper's scope. "We've got incoming, could be minutemen, they look military." "If they look military then it's Gunner's." Lauren corrected, sobering up. "That sounds bad." Liam guessed. "Like Talon company except without the snazzy black armor." Lauren confirmed. "Well then" Liam said, slinging his own rifle around. "Y'all know the drill." "Make them look," Dennis recited, reaching into his bag for his grenades. "Make them fight," Lauren continued, cocking her AK, and turning the safety off. "Make them dead." John finished, lining up his first shot. "And while I'm doing that you lazy fucks take a nap." Liam joked, taking off. Lauren and Dennis following, leaving John to cover them. "I fucking wish." John mumbled to himself.


	2. The Lonesome Boatman

Allen Marks was at peace. At least for the moment.

Having been given leave to check back in with Sanctuary Hills and the Minutemen, Allen decided to take this opportunity to practice something Marion taught him.

Forcing peace.

It was difficult to truly be at inner peace. Tragic memories, complicated puzzles, politics, and embarrassing moments from the third grade, all tended to plague people's thoughts when they had nothing else to think about.

But right now, traveling in formation with Piper, Curie, and Deacon, Allen forced his mind clear of all intrusive thoughts. All he felt was the clothes on his back, the weight of the rifle in his hand, and the light breeze that gently ruffled his too long hair. He briefly wished he could get a haircut before banishing that thought, too.

Truthfully, Agent Marks was getting anxious; as miraculous as his actions with the Railroad seemed to be, it was all a stall. The war was still on, and he was still losing. And truthfully, Agent Marks was longing for a war he could win, an enemy he could defeat. He yearned to finally win, rather than just play for time and wait for the right moment to take his shot.

But anxiety helped no one, killed no enemy. So instead, Allen forced those intrusive thoughts from his mind and focused on the taste of the air and the sounds of nature.

"So, we've been doing the rounds for a while now -" Deacon was rambling, he had to listen to that, "So it's time for you to learn the big secret."

"Oh goody." Allen remarked, preparing for Deacon's confession.

"Everyone thinks Desdemona is the big boss," Deacon started.

Allen interrupted him. "Given that she's 'the boss' I'd tend to agree."

"Yeah, but it's just an act." Deacon claimed, "Truthfully, the Railroad's my show, been that way since I founded it."

"Really?" Allen asked, his bandana concealing his grin, but not his disbelieving tone. "You founded the Railroad?"

"Sure," Deacon shrugged, "Me, Johnny D, and Watz, must have been sixty, seventy years ago." Deacon did a good job of looking nostalgic; he nailed the 'staring pensively into the sky' look. "I tell everyone I get the face change to stay anonymous, truth is it takes a lot of work to look this hot."

Allen laughed, joking, "Deacon I have some bad news…you're 'maybe' a six."

"Look," Deacon said, his amused expression dropping, "Real talk, the Railroad's more about saving synths. We're the last line of defense between the Institute and the rest of the Commonwealth, maybe the world."

"We're that big of the deal, huh?"

"The kind of work we're doing," Deacon's perfect poker face started to break, "You're damn right we are. We really are the best, most noble orginiza-" Neither Deacon nor Allen could get to the end of the sentence with breaking out into great big belly laughs.

"You were doing so well, Deacon." Allen scolded, "If you could've made it to the end of the sentence I might have even believed you."

"I know, I know," Deacon gasped, wiping tears of laughter from behind his glasses, "But I can't, I really can't."

"Is this where you force feed me a moral I learned a long time ago?" Allen asked.

"Yup," Deacon nodded, "But since it's you, I'll give you the short version."

"I'd appreciate that."

"Blah blah, focus on what organizations do rather than what they say." Deacon waved his hand dismissively.

"So," Allen started, finally sobering up. "Out of idle curiosity, what does the Railroad mean to you?"

"Honestly, I'm not like Carrington or Des," Deacon answered, also sobering up, "I don't think the Railroad's going to save the world - too big of a job for too few. Might not even be possible but that's a debate for another day. But we're trying to do some good in our corner. Give the little guys a hand, help the ones that nobody wants to help."

That wasn't the answer Allen was looking for, but he was going to respect Deacon's privacy, for now.

"But really," Deacon continued, "the question is, what's the Railroad to you?"

"You might not like the answer."

"I can cope."

"I just want my boy back," Allen shook his head, "I know it's selfish, I know I'm taking advantage of the Railroad but there it is."

"I think there's more to it than that." Deacon deduced.

"Why's that?"

"If that was the case, you would've fallen in with the Brotherhood," Deacon explained, "I think you're a bit more of an altruist than you give yourself credit for."

"You keep having faith in me," Allen said, "meanwhile I'll stay grounded in reality."

"Reality's no fun."

* * *

Piper was staring at Allen. He was laughing and smiling with Deacon. Something was strange about Allen, she couldn't put her finger on it. This wasn't the first time he seemed at ease, it wasn't the first time he laughed and made merry, but something about him now drew her eye.

"You will bore holes in him," Curie commented, "with all your staring."

"I'm not staring!" Piper defended herself. "Doesn't something about him seem off to you?"

Curie didn't have a chance to respond, as at that moment Allen made his way beside Curie, pulled his bandanna down, and playfully used her head as an elbow rest.

"Don't look surprised and don't look scared," he ordered, suddenly sporting a too wide grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"We're surrounded," Deacon added, throwing his arm around Piper's shoulders, "Gunners, if I had to guess. We have seconds."

"Piper, do you keep the flare gun in your left or right jacket pocket?" Allen asked.

"Right." Piper responded, fighting to keep her voice steady.

"Here's the plan." Allen started. "On 'now' Deacon pops off a flare." Allen passed right over Deacon's "got it boss." "Then you," he pointed at Piper with the arm still on Curies head, "and Deacon are going to head for the trees at 3 o'clock. Curie and I will follow after giving you some cover."

"But-" Piper started.

"Piper, if you argue with me now, I will shoot you myself." Allen snapped, still sporting that awkward grin. "Is everybody ready?"

"Ready." Deacon said, reaching subtly into Piper's coat.

"Ready." Piper mimicked, fingering the trigger of her 10mm.

"I have my diagnosis," Curie said, trying to sound more confident than she was.

"Curie, aim at the ledge at seven o'clock," Allen gave a final order before the signal was said with the kind of eerie calm found only the eyes of hurricanes and men that had seen too much violence.

The ambush lasted thirty seconds, but each target felt like a minute. There were sharpshooters on the ledge and being shot at forced them to adjust. Being forced to adjust made them bigger targets, which made them dead.

Allen let his rifle fall to the ground, opting for his makarov, which he used on the Gunners rushing him. As always, he was precise, two to the chest, one to the head.

But there were too many - twelve rounds in a clip didn't lend itself to a long fight. When the Gunners closed in, Allen tried to fight them off but a few lucky strikes with a stun baton left him panting on the ground, and a gun pointed at his head forced Curie to drop her rifle.

"Right then" the lead Gunner said irritably, kneeling down and pulling Allen's head back. "Usually, we'd just kill you now. But Command wants to make a spectacle out of you. Show the Commonwealth the Gunners won't be put down."

"Dogs get put down," Allen growled at the man, "You're pest control."

The lead gunner gave a grin before calling out to his men. Apparently, they'd rehearsed this, as Curie was cracked over the head with the butt of a rifle.

"Now watch your tone," the Gunner commander ordered, "Cause I can send your friends to join you in death."

Allen remained quiet.

"'Atta boy." The Commander said before standing up and extending a baton.

"Better hope you knock me out cold," Allen threatened him, "'Cause if I wake up before you kill me, then I'm going to have a lot of company in hell."

The Commander shook his head, and nodded at one of his boys, who shot Curie in the abdomen.

"Had to get snippy, didn't you?" he scolded just before giving Allen a solid crack to the head, knocking him unconscious.

The Gunners walked away with their unconscious prize, leaving a soon to be dead synth to the scavengers.

* * *

Curie was scraping her hands across the ground. It hurt to breathe and it hurt to move. But she had to do both. She had to find her weapon, had to find a handhold, something to help her up. But everything hurt, everything made her wince. Maybe if she held her breath, her search would be easier.

"The flare came from here, I'm certain."

There were voices. Unfamiliar.

"There's nothing here."

They needed to see her, they needed to know, they needed to find Monsieur Marks.

"Wait," one of them ordered, "There's someone."

She heard footsteps, slow at first then hurried.

"She's hurt… bad. Murray, I need the medkit." She felt the body the voice belonged to kneel next to her. "Lauren, Colin, look around find out what happened?"

They were wasting time.

"Single gunshot wound to the abdomen, lost a lot a blood."

They needed to find Monsieur Marks.

"Don't try to talk, ma'am, just focus on breathing"

Did she say that out loud?

"Stay focused, ma'am, you've lost a lot of blood. I can save you but I need you to stay still."

But she needed to save Monsieur…

"Ma'am, was somebody taken?"

Yes.

"Lauren, Colin, someone's been taken, follow the tracks, do not engage until I get there."

"Got it, boss."

Thank you.

"Your friend's gonna be fine, but I need you to focus."

The man over her started his work. Tearing at fabric, she felt needles, and the pain started to ease. It felt nice; she needed a nap.

"Stay awake, ma'am."

But the ground was so soft, the sun so warm…she needed rest.

"Tell me about your friend, ma'am. Boyfriend, girlfriend, sibling?"

Friend, more.

"More than friends? How's that."

Promise.

"He promised himself to you? Sweetheart, you need to get that in writing."

No, keep safe.

"You promised to keep him safe? Well, you kept your promise, my friends will keep him alive."

No, he promised.

"Ah shit."

What's wrong?

"She needs a blood transfusion, Murray"

"Sorry boss, we didn't bring any with us."

She wonders if they could hear the footsteps approaching.

The next words are too loud.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah!"

"I'm trying to save this woman, I swear!"

"She's been shot!"

Why is everybody yelling?

"Name's Percival, Minuteman Medic. Tell me about the patient."

"Single gunshot wound. I sealed it as best as I could but I need a proper infirmary."

"Sanctuary Hills, it's closest settlement, and it's fully stocked."

She's here, they have to know, and she doesn't like being talked around.

"Murray, go with them. Percival, make sure she gets a blood transfusion. Say it back to me."

"Blood transfusion."

"Wait, Liam, where are you going?"

Oh good, she wondered what his name was.

"Whoever attacked this woman took someone, I need to get him."

"She needs your help!"

"She needs a blood transfusion," the voice started to grow faint, "Any Idiot can do that."

It is a simple procedure.

"Please tell me you're any idiot?"

"At your service."

It was the last reply she heard.

* * *

"How bad is it?' Liam demanded, having caught up with Lauren and John, "On a scale of one to shitshow?"

Lauren and John had found a good vantage point on a cliff's edge. The Gunners and their hostage were resting beneath them. The hostage was still unconscious.

"Shit show," Lauren answered, "They've got the Minutemen General."

"I don't care if they've got a Jet'd up whore," Liam snapped, "how many are guarding him?"

"Nine," John replied, peering through his scope. "How are we going to play this?"

"We aren't doing anything," Liam clarified, "I, however, am going in hard and loud."

Which was exactly what he did. He slammed into the Gunners like a bull. Every movement was loud, like he was announcing to all of the Commonwealth "I'm here, don't fuck with me!"

Liam didn't need to check his fire, he didn't need to be sure that his targets were dead, every movement, every shot sang death for those in his sights. There were six shots in Liam's revolver, there were soon six gunners with holes in their heads. Two shells in a double barrel, two Gunners with gaping chest wounds, and a throwing knife into the eye of the last.

Liam gave the hostage a cursory exam, before trying to take off.

"Where are you going?"? John demanded.

"That woman I left," Liam responded, already leaving, "She still needs help."

* * *

"What the hell do you mean you didn't give her a blood transfusion!" Liam shouted.

The infirmary at Sanctuary was well stocked, frozen blood packs, antibiotics of every flavor, more stimpacks than some hospitals, and even a semi-sterile operating room, which was where Liam was currently standing outside. "The fuck kind of doctor are you?"

"The kind that knows if we give her the wrong type, she dies!" Percival defended angrily.

"Well then give her type O!" Liam ordered.

"We're out of O," another Minuteman responded.

Liam turned to the man. "Who are you?"

"Preston Garvey, I run this settlement," he explained. "We got hit by Gunners last week, used the last of the O then."

"Does anyone know this woman?" Liam shouted at the growing crowd. "Short brown hair, about yay tall," Liam motioned to his shoulders, "French."

"I do!" A woman in a red trench coat shouted, "She's a friend."

"Do you know her blood type?"

"No," The woman shook her head forlornly.

"Then what use are you?" Liam snapped, turning back to Percival.

"Wait," the woman demanded, getting within whispering distance of Liam. "Can I trust you?"

"Implicitly," Liam assured her without hesitation.

"She's a synth." The woman revealed. Liam gave the woman a quick kiss on the forehead before turning to Preston and Percival. "Get whatever you have the most of."

"What does her being a synth have to do with anything?" Percival asked.

"Synths have built-in filters," Liam explained, "Any blood will do."

"How could you possibly know that?" The woman in red demanded.

"Because I'm clever," Liam deflected, "Now anyone who is not a doctor or medic, fuck right the hell off." Liam turned back to the operating room, "We've got work to do."

To say that Piper had questions would be an understatement of historic proportions.

There were strangers in Sanctuary, one of which was operating on her nearly dead friend, Allen was nowhere to be seen.

What the hell was going on?


	3. The Warriors Code

There's a list, somewhere, of things that doctors want to hear on a daily basis; nowhere on it is "Something's wrong."

"Something's wrong," Percival told Liam, "She's burning up."

Sanctuary Hills was as hectic as ever, the still unconscious Curie, a stranger to most in the settlement, had most people on alert. Doing nothing to dissuade these concerns were the strangers garbed like cowboys showing up with an unconscious Minuteman General.

"It's probably an infection," Liam diagnosed, his swooping in and saving the day having earned him enough goodwill to treat Curie.

"We're fully stocked," Preston reassured him, "Antibiotics of all kinds"

"Until we know what we're dealing with we go general," Percival ordered, "Grab some penicillin"

"Hold on," Liam halted Preston in his tracks, "That might not be the best idea."

Liam guided Preston and Percival towards the head of Curie's cot, and away from the prying eyes of a journalist and a bald man who, even though the trio were certain they'd met before, couldn't name if they tried.

"Synths aren't built like us," Liam explained, "The same filters that let them receive any blood, also helps them fight infections."

"Then why is she feverish," Percival demanded, "If the filters fight infection, why is she feverish?"

"I don't know," Liam admitted, hiding his eyes beneath his hat.

"How do you not know?" Percival asked, clearly resisting the urge to shout.

"I'm not that clever."

"The fuck kind of doctor are you?" Percival taunted him, repeating Liam's earlier words.

"The kind that knows this much about synths, you twice baked, undercooked…" Liam poked at Percival's chest before being pulled away by Preston

"Enough," Preston ordered, "You can measure 'em later, but for now," he turned to Liam, "What do these filters have to do with antibiotics?"

"Right," Liam nodded, "The filters are sensitive, antibiotics aren't. They could wear down the filters."

"So, we do nothing," Percival suggested, "Let her system fight it off."

"Not that simple," Liam said, "I don't know why she heats up, but if she gets too hot it could mess with the systems, fry her internals."

"So, we give her the antibiotics" Percival reasoned, trying again to make a call.

"Not that simple either," Liam shook his head, staring pensively at Curie, "If the filters break, then the antibiotics might not be enough, especially considering her body lacks a natural immune system, it could kill her."

"So, what do we do?" Preston asked.

Percival answered, "We make a judgement call."

"I hate those," Liam ran a hand over his face, "They're unpredictable."

"Medicine is unpredictable," Percival said, "I know you want a neat solution but we have to make a choice and live with the consequences."

"Don't lecture me about consequences," Liam snapped. "You half-baked quack."

"You can measure 'em later," Preston repeated his earlier words, "Right now, she needs you to make a call."

Percival sighed. "Liam knows more about synths. This is his call."

Liam may have received the message, but he was deaf to Percival's words. He was staring at Curie, almost like he was looking for something.

"What do you think," he mumbled, seeming to forget that he was talking to an unconscious woman in a room with two conscious men, "You strong enough to beat this?" He reached out and felt her forehead with the back of his hand, "What's keeping you here? Is it enough?" He finally turned back to Preston and Percival.

"We know the infection will die in her system," Liam reasoned, "What we don't know is whether her system will survive as well. But the antibiotics can hurt as much as they can help."

"Then no antibiotics," Percival clarified.

"Not yet," Liam answered, "If her fever hits 107 or higher we administer antibiotics."

"That's high," Percival cautioned, "By then it might be too late."

"If we administer antibiotics too soon and kill the filters, she dies." Liam countered, "We have to go with what we know, at 107 we know the filters aren't enough."

Liam made to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Preston demanded.

"To check on my other patient."

* * *

"Why isn't he handcuffed to the bed?" Liam demanded after being in the same room as the still unconscious Allen for less than a second.

"Cause he's still out." Deacon answered, having been standing vigil with Piper.

"And the last time he was up he was being threatened and kidnapped," Liam explained, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from one of his coats many pockets, "It won't be a graceful awakening."

"He's not completely wrong." Piper supported the man, though reluctantly.

"I'm rarely completely wrong," Liam bragged, "But I'm usually partially not correct, so let's keep that in mind."

Neither Piper nor Deacon knew how to respond, so they elected to let Liam handcuff their friend to a bed. When that was done, Liam sat on a stool and started to snap over Allen's face.

"That's hardly an effective way to wake someone." Piper chastised.

"Just trying to feel useful." Liam admitted, snapping again.

However, by coincidence or miracle, Allen started to wake.

"Wha…" Allen started drowsily before full blown panic set in. "The fuck? Who the fuck -"

"I really don't have time for this," Liam said forlornly.

"Make time." Piper suggested.

"Oy," Liam snapped to grab Allen's attention, "You're in Sanctuary Hills, a safe place surrounded by friends."

"Who're…" Allen tried to muscle out before being snapped at again.

"I'm Liam Wilson. I saved your ass and don't have time for your questions,"

"How'd -"

Snap.

"I said I saved your ass. Now, see them, they're your friends. They wouldn't let me near you if I was lying."

"What about -"

Snap.

"Your girlfriend is safe."

"She's not my -"

Snap.

"Look I don't have time for you bullshit, suffice to say, you're safe but you have a lot of shit to deal with." Liam explained, "Not the least of which being whoever attacked you."

"They're -"

Snap. At this point, Liam seemed more annoyed than he really needed to be.

"Gunners, I know. Lauren filled me in."

"Lauren," Allen tasted the word, "Wait…"

Snap.

"Yes, Lauren Mcnamara but that's not important right now. Do you trust these people?" Liam asked, motioning towards Piper and Deacon, who looked furious and amused, respectively.

"Yes."

"Good, now Red and Toupee."

"Piper and…" Piper tried to correct before also being snapped at.

"Quiet, Red."

"What are you so busy dealing with that you can't have a little tact." Piper demanded, trying to get in Liam's face but the man was having none of it, seeing as he was already on his way out.

Before Liam could answer, there was a blast of gunfire, signaling that something needed dealing with.

"Any questions?" Liam pretended to ask Pipers stunned visage. "Good. Red, Toupee, Handcuff," he bid his farewells.

* * *

"What do we got?" Liam demanded as he strode towards the bridge that marked the entrance to Sanctuary Hills.

"Gunners," Lauren answered. "Ten of them, they seem to want to talk."

"That's nice of them." Liam looked over to Dennis, who was carrying a duffel bag. "Did you bring the good stuff?"

"The best." Dennis handed the bag over.

"Dennis, if I didn't know better, I'd call this flirting." Liam teased as he peered into the bag.

Nearby, John chambered a round, asking, "Where do you want me?" Liam made to answer but was interrupted by Lauren.

"Handcuffed to my bed usually, but you say no." Lauren smiled, proud of herself before feigning an epiphany, "Oh, you were asking Liam."

"On a rooftop with a clear line of sight," Liam finally answered, glossing right over the interruption.

"The usual signals?" John asked.

"Those are the ones." Liam confirmed before rounding the bend and spotting the visiting committee, plus the Sanctuary Hills welcoming party, which consisted of one very brave Preston Garvey

"What the hell is Garvey doing?" Liam exclaimed, breaking into a light jog.

"He appears to be defending his home." Lauren replied.

"The idiot!"

"Yeah," Dennis remarked with a roll of his eyes, "God forbid people defend themselves."

"Murray, I need your sass like a shot in the ass." Liam scolded. "Now stay out of sight, both of you."

"Got it, boss." Lauren acknowledged.

"Watch your ass." Dennis saluted before following Lauren.

"That's my job."

"For fuck's sake, Lauren."

* * *

"Our demand is simple," the Gunner captain attempted to reason, "Give us the General, and we don't burn this place to the ground."

"Not happening." Preston crossed his arms.

"Is one man life really worth all of yours?" the captain asked.

"You won't take the General and none of you will lay a finger on our home." Preston uncrossed his arms and pointedly rested a hand his 10mm.

"We took Quincy," the captain pointed out. "Me and my men," he said with a shrug at the men ten yards away, "We're veterans of that." He gave a sincere chuckle. "That was a fun day for all of us."

"You…" Whatever Preston was accusing the captain of being was cut off by Liam's arrival.

"Garvey!" He said in a falsetto motherly voice, "Why didn't you tell me you invited friends, have you offered them refreshments?" He arrived at Preston's side, standing nose to nose with the Gunner.

"Liam, I've got this," Preston said through gritted teeth.

"Run along now, Garvey," Liam ordered, "Mummy and Daddy are talking."

"Are you sure about this?" Preston whispered.

"It's my life to risk," Liam hissed back. Apparently that was enough, because Preston took off.

"So, back to business then." The captain clapped his hands in mock amusement.

"Don't you want to stick around for a beer?" Liam asked, rummaging around in his coat pockets, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

"I'm not in the mood for games," the captain declared, "So I'm going to make this simple. 'Little pig, little pig, let me in.'"

"So that's a no to the cigarette?" Liam clarified, holding one out.

"That is a no." The Gunner sneered.

"Shame," Liam said, flicking the cigarette to the ground.

Now, there was a difference between a bad choice and a bad outcome, with a whole lot science in between, but long story short, it was usually safe to say that a 'no' to a cigarette was a good choice. However, seeing how the Gunner captain was dead a from a bullet from John's Rifle before the cigarette hit the ground, the outcome was less than bad.

"You move, you die!" Liam shouted, pulling his own revolver, silencing the Gunners before they even started panicking. "Now, who's the second in command?"

The Gunners didn't wait for a volunteer, instead just pointing. Apparently, the man in questiondidn't like the decision, as his only response was.

"Fuckers."

"You don't look like much," Liam observed, "Bring a friend."

When the two new delegates came, Liam made them the same offer.

"Cigarette?"

"Yes, please." The two of them said, overly eager.

"Ya' shouldn't," Liam lectured, lighting his own, "This shit'll kill you."

He dropped the pack, revealing a tiny black rectangle with an antenna and a button. "Hold this will ya?" he requested, handing it to the 'friend' as he walked over to where the where the bulk of the Gunners were, dropping a duffle bag at their center.

"You move, you die." He reminded them, before walking back to where the two leaders stood.

"Press that button there," Liam suggested, "Don't worry, pressing it is harmless."

The Gunner pressed the button.

"Letting it go," Liam whistled, "That will kill all your friends. C4 in the bag. Deadman's trigger. Now, what can I do for you gentlemen."

Stunned into near silence, all the Gunner "leader" could do was mumble.

"Something about the general?" Liam asked, cupping his ear, "I can arrange that. Let's go see him." He motioned to the leader, walking him a few paces away from his friends.

"Whoops," Liam suddenly exclaimed, stopping and patting his chest pockets down, "Almost forgot." He pulled out a revolver. "Bang!" he said with just a bit too much glee, shooting the man holding the trigger and setting off the C4.

"Wow," Liam whistled, still standing tall, as the man next to him was shocked to his knees, "Dennis said it was the good stuff." He finally turned to the Gunner next to him, pulling the man's hair back, and drawing a knife to his throat. "Now, do I have your attention?"

"Yes." The Gunner gasped out.

"Did you get the message?" Liam's casualness dropped and was replaced with a rage that was uniquely his.

"Yes!" The Gunner cried desperately.

"No, you didn't!" Liam shouted, spittle flying into his captive's face, "Now listen, I want you to go to your commander –" He paused and reconsidered, "Your new one, and tell him that there's a new player on the board. They're called the Regulators. They're good and they're coming after you. So, let it be known that anyone who wears the Gunner's uniform, flies the Gunner's flag, or hell, takes a contract in the name of the Gunners, dies." Liam pulled the man's head back roughly, "Say it back to me." He ordered.

"Regulators," the man gasped out, "Gunners, Regulators kill Gunners."

"Fucking useless," Liam hissed throwing the man to the ground, who just stared at him. "Move, chicken shit! Go!"

And so he did.

Liam stood there smoking, before turning to the crowd that had gathered.

"So, I'm assuming you have some questions."

It was a safe assumption


	4. Loyal to no one

The Regulators were locked in the Sanctuary Hills prison room.

Dennis was not taking the development well.

"We save them, they lock us up," he ranted, pacing the length of the room, "Does anyone else find that irritating?"

"In fairness, Liam was kind of a dick," Lauren commented, significantly less distressed than Dennis.

Liam was pacing alongside Dennis. "I think they're more concerned with me blowing up a squad of Gunners than my manners." John was sleeping.

"How were we supposed to deal with them?" Lauren asked, really to nobody in particular.

"Diplomatically," Dennis said, "I think they wanted to deal with the situation  _diplomatically_."

"Why would they want to do that?" Lauren seemed more than a little confused by the idea.

"Apparently, they're civilized here." Dennis replied, "Thank god."

Lauren frowned. "So, what are they going to do with us?"

The conscious trio went quiet at the question, all while John continued to snooze easily in the corner.

"Well, they're not going to kill us," Liam finally answered. "But there's a good chance they won't be asking us to leave politely."

Dennis looked to him, asking, "What's your read on them?"

"Garvey hates the Gunners, but he has a bit of a defensive feel to him." Liam started counting the names on his hands, "He might not like that were from out of town. Toupee was hard to read, but I can't shake the feeling that I've met him before."

"What about the reporter?" Dennis asked, thinking for a moment, "Piper something?"

"Wright," Liam confirmed, "Piper Wright. Don't know, Lauren?" Liam passed the request off.

"Piper's probably our best friend right now." Lauren deduced.

"How so?" Dennis looked unconvinced.

"We saved her friends." Lauren shrugged, "She was close enough with the girl to know she was a synth, and you guys didn't see but she was smiling like a crazy person when we brought the general back."

"She didn't seem to like me," Liam recalled.

"You're not very likeable," Dennis pointed out.

"True." Liam allowed, motioning in agreement.

"She's an 'actions speak louder than words' kinda gal," Lauren interrupted, "I can tell."

Dennis thought for a moment. "I'm worried about what the general thinks."

"I hope he's thick skinned," Liam added, "I was very rude."

"He's thick skinned," Lauren recalled "Just don't flirt with him and we should be fine."

Liam shrugged. "He's not my type."

"Really?" Lauren asked incredulously, "'Cause," she let out a small moan before going on, "That ass was fine."

Dennis made a face, scolding her. "That's enough."

"Don't be such a buzzkill, Dennis."

Dennis through his arms into the air.

"God forbid we maintain some decorum!" he nearly shouted.

"Well, what else can we do?" Lauren argued.

"Nothing," Liam said, cutting before the conversation could devolve further. "All we can do right now is wait."

The declaration was punctuated only by John's snoring.

* * *

"They need to leave, yesterday." Preston voted.

"What?" Piper exclaimed, "They saved Curie and you, Blue," She pointed to the still bedridden - if only because they didn't get the keys to the handcuffs from Liam – man. "We owe them at least the time of day."

Preston shook his head. "They've also potentially started a war with the Gunners."

"A war we would've had to fight eventually." Allen pointed out.

"But we're not ready for it." Preston argued. "The Gunners have been making a push and it's all we can do to protect our settlements."

"All the better reason to go on the offensive," Allen mused, "When playing defense you have to succeed every time, but when trying to take someone out you just have to succeed once."

"Yeah, that's deep and all," Deacon interrupted, "But that's it's a very long road to that 'one.'"

"And now we have four more people to help." Allen observed.

"How do we even know we can trust them?" Preston asked. "How do we know they have the best interests of the Commonwealth at heart?"

"They saved Curie and Allen." Piper reminded them.

"Hold it," Allen said, "We're shooting blind here. Until we know more, I'm not comfortable making any calls. Deacon," he turned towards his friend, "Do you know anything?"

"I've had some ops take me to the Capital Wasteland." Deacon answered, "The Regulators are known to be moral, but they're secretive," Deacon shrugged reluctantly, "And not for nothing, they kill bad guys, not defend good ones."

"Know anything about the leader?" Piper spoke up, "He said his name is Liam Wilson."

"A bit." Deacon admitted. "He's a…" Deacon's eyes shifted before he finally said, "Friend, but by necessity."

"Like me?" Allen searched for clarification. "Or more like 'the devil you know?'"

"More like 'use the cards you have not the ones you want,'" Deacon tried to clarify, "He hasn't screwed us, but we don't know him well enough to judge."

Preston waved his hand, drawing attention back to him. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"I'm Railroad," Allen answered, "So is Deacon, that's where I've been the last couple of months."

"That was a great secret we had once," Deacon complained, complete with a melodramatic sigh.

"Oh, give me a break," Allen said. "And while I'm being given things," he pulled on his cuffs, "Either find me a key or a bolt cutter, I am not in the mood to break my hand."

"I'll get Liam." Preston announced, taking off a moment later.

"I'll go with." Deacon said with a grin wider than it needed to be.

Piper wished she could say that this was an unfamiliar scene, but Allen being beat to hell and bedridden was a bit too common of a sight, a fact which did not escape Allen's notice.

"So, are we going to talk about this?" He asked, failing to be cheeky, "or are we used to this by now."

"I don't think a person should ever 'get used' to nearly dying," Piper took her usual spot by Allen's bedside, "And let's admit this is a bit different than your usual brush."

"True," Allen nodded, "This time it was Curie who almost died." He shook his head, "How's she doing?"

"Still unconscious, but her fever's starting to go down. Percival and Liam are good at their jobs." She reassured him. "But how about you?" She reached out to pat Allen on the shoulder, "How are you feeling?"

"Angry." Allen answered coldly.

"That's not what I-

"I know what you meant." Allen cut her off, "But there it is, I left my post and the Gunners were making a push, I wasn't there to stop it. Curie was my responsibility and she almost died." Allen's words and eyes were angry, but his voice was calm. "What happens next is simple - anyone who wears the Gunner's uniform, flies the Gunner's flag, takes contracts in the name of the Gunners, stops, or they die."

"Isn't that a little harsh?" Piper asked, recalling words that Allen spoke so long ago as the Shroud, "Most of them are just doing what they have too in able to survive, you taught me that people like this just took survival to the most illogical extreme."

"I also said I couldn't always afford to show that kind of mercy." Allen reminded her. "Piper, Curie and I would be dead by now if it weren't for the deus ex machina that is Liam Wilson."

"What's a deus ex machina?" Piper asked, blinking blankly at Allen.

"I do not have time to get into it," Allen said with a half-hearted chuckle.

"It's true," an intruding voice said from the doorway, "He's got a lot of work to do."

Liam strode into the room as though he owned it, bound for the bed and promptly unlocking Allen from his cuffs.

"Thank you." Allen said, rubbing his wrists.

"Don't mention it." Liam dismissed the thanks with a wave, "But I'd love for you to mention what your plan is and how I fit into it."

"Who's to say you even have a part in it?" Allen countered.

"You don't have a choice." Liam declared, sitting down, "I can watch your back, or you'll be watching mine as I gut the Gunners."

"What gives you the right to walk into my home and decide what's best?" Again, Allen was contradictory; while his words were argumentative and divisive, his tone was almost scholarly in its politeness.

"The fact that everything seems to be the same as when Lauren was here almost six months ago," Liam leaned in, "Brotherhood, Institute, Gunners, Raiders, you've got a lot of enemies here, Handcuff, and I'm here to help."

"Now, why would you do that?" Allen asked.

"I'm a helper." Liam replied with an evasive roll of his shoulders, causing Allen to sigh and rub the bridge of his nose

"You can't stay if I can't trust you." Allen explained, "I can't trust you if I don't understand why you're here, so speak up or fuck off."

"Like I said," Liam leaned in, "You don't have a choice. I can watch your back, or you can watch mine."

"I'll put a gun your head and pull the trigger if I think you'll endanger the people here," Allen said. " _You_  don't have a choice."

And there it was, cards on the table and guns cocked under it. Now, Allen and Liam were unarmed, but Piper's hand was glued to her 10mm.

In response, Liam just laughed.

"I like you, Handcuff," he said in between peels of laughter, "How can you hear yourself think over the sound of the balls of steel twixt your legs clanging?" Liam started clapping. "Just…" there was a quick shake of his head, "Balls of fucking steel."

"Does that mean you're going to tell me why you're here?" Allen demanded.

"Sure, Handcuff, sure." Liam sighed, "It's a long story, but the short version, is that I'm a knight of the Brotherhood."

"You're what?" Piper asked.

"A knight of the Brotherhood," Liam repeated, "But a different faction."

Allen scowled. "Explain."

"The original purpose of the Brotherhood of Steel," Liam recalled, "was to preserve humanity's progress. After all, 'everybody knows how to make children but the secrets to an AER-9 laser rifle may forever be lost'." He flexed his fingers as he quoted the words.

"Noble," Allen allowed, "But limited and potentially dangerous."

"You're not the only one that thinks that way." Liam informed, "Owyn Lyons, led the Eastern Seaboard division and changed the mission, started saving people rather than people's tech. Caused a schism, and the Brotherhood split."

"Is that we're Maxon comes in?" Piper asked.

"Sorta," Liam tilted his head side to side, as if trying to rock the information out of his head, "Lyons thought he was loyal to him, Maxon started proving himself, and even managed to mend the schism. We thought it was the dawn of a new day for the Brotherhood," Liam practically spat. "Then Maxon led a coup, took the Prydwyn, our vertibirds, and Liberty Prime."

"Hold up." Allen demanded, making the time out sign with his hands, "Liberty Prime? He has Liberty Prime?"

"It's nonfunctional." Liam clarified.

"Oh, that's much better." Allen faked relief.

"What's Liberty Prime?" Piper asked.

"A problem for another day." Allen sighed. "But that still leaves the reason as to why you're here."

"The Capital Wasteland is my responsibility." Liam declared, "Brotherhood included, when they left it was because I couldn't handle the situation. They're bringing war to your terf." He tried to explain further, "Simplest terms, I need to know if you need me to kill a bitch."

"Lauren seemed convinced that I could handle this." Allen recalled.

"I'm harder to convince," Liam answered, "The Brotherhood couldn't spare the resources, but since I'm big enough, and since the Brotherhood's plan was essentially genocide, I was able to tap some Regulators to come up north with me."

"So here we are." Allen concluded.

"Here we are." Liam repeated, "Question is, Handcuff, where do we go?"

Allen barely hesitated.

"If you can follow orders, and avoid burning too much to the ground, you can stay." Allen offered, standing up for emphasis.

"I'll make you a deal," Liam offered, standing up to meet Allen eye to eye, "You don't order me to do anything evil and we're friends. You put innocent people in danger or in your crosshairs, I put you in the ground."

Piper had never seen someone so casually threaten to kill before, even Allen spoke about killing with a sort of resigned severity.

"Deal." Allen offered Liam his hand.

"Done." The other man grasped it, and raised it between his and Allen eyes.

"So, what now?" Piper asked.

"Good question." Liam pointed at Piper with the hand that was holding Allen's, "Allen, what are your orders?"

"First things first," Allen said, nodding to himself, "We need to send for the lieutenants, I'm a behind and I don't think I can afford to be."

"Sounds like fun," Liam said, "How long should that take?"

"A few days," Allen shrugged, "Maybe a week."

"Less fun."


	5. Boys on the Docks

The sun was rising and Liam, who was at the top of the hill where the vault resided, was watching it rise.

"What are you doing up here?" The inquisitive voice of Allen Marks asked, causing Liam to jump.

"They should put a bell on you," Liam joked before turning back to the rising sun, "I'm watching the sunrise."

"Why?" Allen asked.

"'Cause I can," Liam replied, seeming to question why Allen needed to ask. "Spent the first nineteen years of my life never even seeing the sun."

"Why not?"

"You gonna give all of us the third degree?" Liam demanded.

"If I have to," Allen responded, finding a metal crate to sit on.

Liam shook his head and turned away from the sun, now risen past the point of his interest, "Nosy little fucker, ain't ya?"

"You're an unknown variable," Allen said, turning in place. "I need to know I can trust you."

"Well, let's just skip to the point then." Liam slapped his hands together, as if to dust them off, "Tombstone info, I was raised in a vault, spent most of my life there. My Dad left, then me," Liam ticked the info off on his fingers, "Shenanigans ensue and I end up joining the Brotherhood and the Regulators."

"What kind of shenanigans?" Allen demanded.

"The long story kind," Liam evaded, leaving Allen to only nod in resignation.

"I know the type."

Liam crossed his arms, "Look Marks, either you'll trust me or you won't, knowing my story won't change that."

"Fair enough."

* * *

For the first time in what feels like forever, Allen was taking a moment to breathe. He had swapped his armor for a simple shirt and jeans, and wasn't even wearing his bandana.

He was taking this opportunity to clean his arsenal when Lauren poked her head into his kitchen.

"Have you seen John?" She asked.

"Nope." Allen answered, focusing on the bits and bobbles of his rifle, not even watching Lauren leave.

Moments later John emerged from his hiding spot in the closet.

"Thanks," he said, taking a seat next to Allen. "They probably want me to settle another argument." John explained, inspecting the Shroud Armor he had acquired in the closet.

"They argue often?" Allen asked, still focusing on his rifle.

"Only about silly things." John shrugged, "What's harder to kill, Mirelurk or Yao Guai, what's a better weapon, plasma or laser." John ran his fingers through the armors material.

"Be careful with that." Allen said, setting down the part in his hands, "It was a gift from a friend."

"I don't think I could break this if I wanted too." John replied, clearly impressed by the armor. "What's the material?"

"Don't know, really." Allen shrugged, "That sort of thing isn't my area of expertise, poly-something."

"Poly-laminate plate or poly-kevlar weave?" John asked, seeming to forget that Allen had just said he didn't know. "Probably Poly-Laminate," he mused "I wonder what kind of abuse this could take?"

"You've forgotten I'm here, haven't you?" Allen asked, not expecting an answer.

"How'd this fare against plasma?" John replied – sort of.

"Okay." Allen shrugged getting back to work

* * *

Liam was having a cigarette when Piper approached him.

"So, you're the Lone Wanderer." She said, more of an accusation than a question.

"Among other things." Liam confirmed flicking the cigarette ash away.

"I've heard rumors, you know," Piper said trying to lead to a point.

"Lot's of people have."

"Would you being willing to do an interview?" she asked, finally getting to the meat of the matter.

"No." Liam deadpanned before trying to walk away.

"Care to explain why?"

"Do I need to?" Liam was still not so subtly trying to leave. "You annoy me, how's that?"

"You're a hero!" Piper exclaimed starting to jog to keep up, "Don't you think the people deserve to know your story?"

"Oddly enough, no." Liam snapped.

"Must be nice," Piper taunted, "To not worry about being judged, to not worry about the repercussions of your actions."

Liam stopped dead in his tracks, lifted his head skyward, and turned to Piper.

"Rep…" Liam couldn't even muscle his way through the word, "You want to talk about repercussions? Do you know what we saw when we got to Diamond City?" He didn't wait for an answer. "We saw a man pointing a gun at his brother, accusing him of being a synth." He shook his head in disgust, "And a city full of people just fucking watched. Security had to take him down."

"That's not our fault," Piper said, "It's the Institute's."

"You actually believe that!" Liam exclaimed reeling at the idea. "Tell me, Wright, what was your solution?" Piper just stared at Liam, not understanding. "When you put out that article about synth infiltrators, if everything went the way you wanted it too, how would you have solved the Commonwealth's little Institute problem?"

"I…" Piper started, before quickly being interrupted.

"Or did you not have one? Did you just think knowledge of the Institute would fix everything? People are dead now, people that didn't have to be dead, because you made them afraid." Liam sighed, and visibly calmed down, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and wordlessly offering one to Piper, "You're a smart girl, Wright, you should know better than to publish half a story. There are evil bastards in this world but there are also people fighting them." He half-turned to walk away, before he stopped and said, "An angel for every boogeyman, a Minuteman for every Gunner."

Liam walked away, leaving Piper with an unlit cigarette in her hand.

* * *

Allen was trying to cook, emphasis on trying.

"What are you making?" Lauren asked, staring at the counter full of ingredients.

"A mess." Allen grumbled, "I used to be a pretty good cook, then the rules changed." Allen reached for a mirelurk egg and cracked it, spilling the contents into a bowl. "Ya see, that doesn't even look edible!"

"Can I ask you a question?" Lauren said, abruptly changing the subject.

"I have a habit of giving vague and unsatisfying answers." Allen cautioned her.

Lauren handed Allen an issue of Publick Occurences. "Well, I was reading this."

" _View from the Vault,_ " Allen read the title aloud, before tossing the paper on a nearby table "Not my proudest moment but whatever."

"Well, you mention Nora…" Lauren started, before being interrupted.

"I'll let you finish," Allen said, going cold, "But you're treading in dangerous water."

Lauren put her hands up. "It's not what you think," she insisted, "It's actually kind of strange."

"Go on," Allen relented and started to whisk the egg.

"Well," Lauren stalled, digging her foot into the floor, "Was there anyone before Nora? Someone you thought might have been the 'one'?"

Allen let out a long sigh, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Do you want the short version or the long version?" He asked after more melodrama than strictly necessary.

"Both?"

"Short version," Allen said, pouring the whisked egg into a pan, "Yes, yes there was."

"And the long version?" Lauren prodded, poking through the ingredients. Allen put the pan onto a hot plate and sighed.

"There was this place," Allen explained, "called Amsterdam. I spent about a year there."

"Doing what?" Lauren asked, finding a chair to sit on.

"A lot," Allen started chopping vegetables, "Kind of what I've been doing here - being a vigilante, saving lives, fighting crime rings."

"Why's that?"

"Too long of a story," Allen told her, "But when you're a vigilante, the police notice." He set his knife down and smiled, "Not always in a good way, I was dubbed a 'disturber of the peace.'" He made air quotes with his hands, "And a task force was organized to take me down."

"Assholes," Lauren declared, "You were just trying to help."

"It was what it was," Allen searched through the ingredients, looking for something that probably wasn't there, "But the task force was honest, good cops all of them, and even I needed help sometimes."

"So, you went to the people looking to take you down," Lauren deduced. "For help?"

"Yup." Allen nodded, smiling at a can he had found, "There was this woman, Anika, a up and comer with more ideals than most"

"Wait," Lauren sat up, "Don't tell me, you started screwing the woman hunting you?" Lauren didn't even try to hold back her laughter.

"It's more complicated than that." Allen defended himself, staring intently at the egg on the hotplate. "Actually, it wasn't," he recanted after minor consideration. "We were young and attractive and vigilantes."

"So, what was it like?" Lauren asked, "The relationship, not the sex," she clarified quickly.

Allen mumbled something unintelligible.

"Didn't catch that." Lauren said, cupping her ear.

"I said," Allen repeated, "the answer is the same, fun." He took the pan of the hotplate and went on, "Like I said, we were young and attractive, add being vigilantes to the mix and it makes for some great stories."

"So, why'd it end?" Lauren asked, "If it was so much fun?"

"I had to leave." Allen grimaced, either at the memories or the taste of his concoction, "The CIA needed me elsewhere."

"So that was it?" Lauren shifted in her seat, "Just 'so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye?"

"Not quite," Allen offered the meal (loosely defined) to Lauren who turned it down flat, "But by the next time I saw her, we were a little bit older, a little bit wiser and lot less wild. And beyond the 'fun,' we didn't really click." Allen whistled and offered the dish to Dogmeat, who also turned it down.

"So, how'd you know Nora was the 'one'?" Lauren asked, "The real 'one'?"

"I didn't." Allen shrugged, throwing the food into the trash "I was terrified when she was walking down the aisle. All I knew was that I loved her and the wasn't a thing on her earth 'cept her that could stop me from loving her." He sat down in front of Lauren. "Now, can I ask what this was about?"

"How about," Lauren held up a finger, "I clean up your mess and you don't ask." She motioned to the destruction in Allen's wake.

"Done." Allen accepted, bolting away.

* * *

Liam was on a stool behind a barricade, scanning the horizon, when Deacon approached him.

"I have a question," Deacon said, causing Liam to jump in slight surprise, "Why did you help us?"

"By 'us,' do you mean Allen and the gang?" Liam asked as he turned to Deacon, "Or our mutual friends with the lit lanterns?"

"We haven't used the callsign 'Lit Lanterns' in ages," Deacon pointed out.

"Well, I'm out of the loop," Liam shrugged, "Watts wasn't exactly happy with me when I killed Zimmer."

"Yeah," Deacon nodded, recalling the incident, "She was afraid his disappearance would arouse Institute suspicion, bring down more heat on those we sent to the Capital."

"And when that heat came," Liam assured the other man, "I'd kill them, too."

"Why?" Deacon asked again, "Why help us?"

Liam shrugged. "Because I could."

Deacon shook his head at Liam's answer. "That's no reason."

"Isn't it?" Liam raised an eyebrow at the man, "Because when you can, you should. When you can fight, you should. When you're rich enough to be charitable, you should be." Liam looked back to the horizon, "And when you're moral enough to know that the chief of security at Rivet City is a good man and the man hunting him is evil," Liam glanced at Deacon from the corner of his eyes, "You kill the bad man and protect the good." He nodded to himself and took a breath before continuing, "When you can, you should. And when the consequences come calling, you either fight back or accept them, 'cause a life without consequences is a coward's life."

"Wow," Deacon said, struck dumb, "And I thought Allen was a drama queen."

"Allen's got nothing on my dumb ass," Liam declared, "Your turn guarding the pass." He slapped Deacon on the shoulder as he stood, before turning and walking away.

* * *

Dennis, Allen, and Liam stood down range of a shooting gallery.

"I take it your role isn't sharpshooter," Allen observed after Dennis had poured a clip into empty air.

"Explosives expert." Dennis clarified, "Give me a nuka cola quantum and a few other things and I can whip up something that'll outperform a plasma grenade."

"Are you kidding?" Allen asked, setting down his gun.

"I don't kid about high powered explosives," Dennis affirmed, "Unlike some people, I take my work seriously."

"Love you too, Murray," Liam said, reloading his revolver.

"Tell me something," Dennis turned to Allen, "You were military, right?"

"At first." Allen answered slowly, cautious at the direction this conversation was taking, "then I was CIA."

"But everything was orderly there," Dennis pressed, "disciplined?" His tone suggested that there was no room for arguments, "No showing up to work plastered, no shagging the lieutenant of an unknown and possibly untrustworthy group?"

"Well…" Allen shrugged starting to correct him.

"Christ have mercy," Dennis mumbled, emptying another clip at the targets. "The Regulators have gone to the dogs, bringing in alcoholics and lechers and enemy combatants." Dennis shook his head and reloaded, "We can't afford to compromise. The world ended and if you're not right, you're wrong, a murderer is a murderer, an addict's an addict, and a whore is unprofessional. We need to be better."

He shook his head at his unscathed target and left, leaving Allen and Liam to stare at each other awkwardly.

"He's a really good explosives expert, isn't he?" Allen asked.

"The best," Liam confirmed, "But he's a better man than he seems,"

"I'll trust your judgement." Allen relented.

The duo stood in silence for a while, the only sounds their firearms.

"Was it?" Liam, eventually, asked.

"Was what?"

"The CIA," Liam clarified, "Was it disciplined?"

"Well," Allen shrugged, "We all did our jobs, but not the way Dennis thinks."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Allen shrugged as if he was unsure he should divulge this information, "My CO had a not so subtle drinking problem, there were parts of my life where I had a hit of mentats every eight hours for weeks at a time, and one of our best agents routinely slept with enemy spies."

"Sounds like fun." Liam observed.

"It had its moments."

* * *

Liam had a few defining characteristics: he dressed like a cowboy, was armed to the teeth, and looked like he hadn't bathed in weeks.

But the first thing Curie noticed was that he smelled of smoke.

"What's two plus four?" Liam asked the bedridden synth

"Six," Curie responded, her nose scrunched at the smell.

"I have a pen in my hand," Liam said and held up a pen. "The ink in it is red. Is all ink in all pens red?"

"No," Curie answered, "Why am I doing this?"

"You've been shot, feverish, and cracked on the head." Liam told her. "Not necessarily in that order," he added as an afterthought, "Humor me."

Curie relented. "Very well."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Liam asked.

"I was shot," Curie recalled, her pupils darting upwards as if trying to look into her own head.

"Can you describe the people who shot you?"

"Yes," Curie assured him, "They were quite rude."

If one were paying attention, one could see the five stages of grief pass over Liam as he bent over at the hip to laugh at the comment. Denial - "She couldn't have said that, right?" Anger - "How could she be that funny, she just woke up, goddamnit." Bargaining - "I can still use that joke sometime, yeah?" Depression - "I can never be as funny as this moment, I just can't." And finally acceptance, "Well, might as well laugh."

Gasping for air between peals of laughter, Liam managed to gasp out a simple message.

"Curie, I am really glad I saved your life."

"As am I, Monsieur Cowboy, as am I." Curie agreed, though she was confused as to why this man found her description so amusing, and again to why his laughter doubled at "Monsieur Cowboy."

* * *

"What do you think they're doing?" Piper asked Allen, referring to the Regulators.

Allen squinted at the scene before them. "Playing some kind of dice game."

"You mean you don't know?" Piper smirked at the man.

Allen just shrugged, "I don't know everything."

"It's called Liar's Dice!" Liam called from the table shaking a cup full of dice, "You want in?"

"I don't really know how to play." Allen said, reluctantly approaching the table.

"Watch for a round," Lauren offered, "We'll explain as we go." The four Regulators lifted their cups revealing the dice underneath them.

"First, we shake, rattle, and roll." Liam narrated, and in synch the Regulators slammed their cups downward on the table, and peered under them.

Hide quoted text

"Then we bet." Lauren, who was to Liam's left, added as she threw ten caps into the center. "Ten caps."

The other Regulators followed suit.

"Then we bid." John declared to Lauren's left, "Two twos."

"The bid is how many of what dice is under the cups." Dennis explained. "Three twos," he added.

"You can bid up on how many of the number." Liam continued. "Five twos." he declared, passing the bid to Lauren.

"Or the number on the dice." Lauren said before placing her own bid, "Four threes."

"Or call liar. Liar, by the way," John accused and everyone lifted their cups. There were three threes. Lauren took a die out from her cup, and the Regulators started shaking their cups again.

"If a person is found to be a Liar, they take a die out from their cup." Dennis explained, "The person with all their dice remaining at the end wins the pool."

"I don't think we have enough dice." Allen observed.

"It's fine," Dennis assured him, standing. "Rather leave while I'm in the black."

"I should go,"John added, handing Piper his dice, "I have to go do some gun maintenance."

"I've known him for eighteen months," Lauren said, staring at John's retreating back, "And I still don't know if that's code for masturbating."

Allen and Piper shared glances as Lauren and Liam started shaking their dice.

"Are we just going to ignore that?" Piper whispered to Allen.

"Apparently." Allen shrugged.

The four players slammed their cups onto the table.

Lauren was the first to leave the table, a little less than an hour later.

"I'll be back," she said, peering out the window, "I have to go…" she paused for more time than should be allotted, "...do a patrol."

Everyone stared at Lauren as she left, appearing to make a beeline for Cait.

John was quick to fill her seat at the table, almost as if he had been summoned,

"How was weapon maintenance?" Liam asked, sliding Lauren's cup towards him.

"I was inventorying the Sanctuary armory." John explained.

"It's locked," Allen said, "Probably for a reason."

"It was locked," John countered, "And for a great reason - it's well stocked, did you know you have an A3 sniper class plasma rifle?" he asked.

Allen frowned. "Do I still have an A3 sniper class plasma rifle in my armory?"

Before John could answer, Preston poked his head into the room. "Have any y'all seen Cait, she's slated for patrol."

"She's probably with Lauren," Allen offered.

"Where's Lauren?" Preston asked.

"With Cait," John deadpanned, "Weren't you listening?"

Preston scoffed and walked away and the game continued until it was interrupted by Dennis.

"Has anyone seen Lauren?" He asked, "I finished that special order she asked for."

"She's probably with Cait." Liam offered.

"Where's Cait?" Dennis asked.

"With Lauren," Piper deadpanned, "Weren't you listening?"

Dennis, very much like Preston, also scoffed and walked away.

"Ten caps," Liam wagered, "Dennis finds 'em first."

"I'm in," Piper piped up "But Preston'll find 'em first.

"A3 sniper class plasma rifle on them finding them at the same time." John said, doubling down.

There was silence as the game continued, until...

"For fuck's sake, Cait!"

"Lauren! Really!"

Liam and Piper handed over caps as Allen let out a "damn" and resigned himself to the fact that he'd never see that rifle again.

"We don't know these people, Cait" Preston could be heard shouting, "Show some standards."

"Some what now?" Piper sniped.

"Piper," Allen admonished, "Be polite."

"We need to put our best foot forward." Dennis shouted.

"I'm sure she brought her A-game, Murray!" Liam shouted out the window.

The game continued well into the night, Liam walked away with a purse full of caps and his dignity.

Allen walked away with neither - the guy couldn't bluff for shit

* * *

About a month from the day the Minutemen lieutenants arrived, somebody described the week prior as the calm before the storm. Allen almost punched that person and Liam actually did.

Sure, there was a shitstorm to come, but the week prior was filled with plenty of madness.

The days seemed to blur together; the games of Liar's Dice, weapon maintenance, and general herding of cats seemed to last forever.

Allen was actually glad when he saw his lieutenants arrive over the horizon, at least until he spotted a squad of gunners try to ambush them.

So maybe the "before the storm" part was accurate, but it was not calm, and if it was, it was a shit calm.

That worked.

Shit calm before the shit storm.


	6. The thick skin of defiance

"They got here too fast." Liam declared.

Allen's house was unusually crowded today; Preston, the Minutemen Lieutenants, the Regulators, Piper, and Deacon all found space in Allen's living room, and at the moment all of them are staring at Liam.

"The Gunners" he clarified, motioning towards the map, "They shouldn't have been able to put together an ambush like that one that quickly, not if the intel you've provided for me is accurate."

"Maybe they move faster than you think," Allen mused, "Maybe they have radio capabilities."

"They don't," Nancy interrupted confidently. Everyone's eyes snapped to her. "Latest intel suggests that they communicate by runner." She shrugged at them.

"Underestimating your opponent is dangerous," Allen lectured, "Maybe they have more than we think."

"Overestimating them holds you back," Liam shot back, "We need look into this."

Before Allen could respond, Liam held his hands up in a pseudo-surrender. "Fine, just me then. Let me do some scouting and I'll get back to you."

Allen rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, "What would you do if I ordered you to stay?"

"Grumble not so quietly and stay," Liam shrugged.

"Fine," Allen nodded towards the door, "Go, but not alone."

"Still don't trust me, Marks?"

"More than yesterday, not as much as tomorrow." Allen looked to Piper who was standing at his right flank, "Piper, could you go with him?"

"I'd rather not," Piper whispered to Allen, "He and I don't exactly get along."

"Piper," Allen whispered, "You're the only one I trust to keep an eye on this knucklehead," He explained, "Please."

"Fine," Piper whispered back, before marching up to Liam, "We're back in day and this is only a scouting mission, got it!" She ordered, jabbing a finger into Liam's chest.

"Sure," Liam shrugged, "Whatever you say, boss."

He made to leave before turning back to the room. "Ladies, gentlemen," He nodded towards Allen "Handcuff, I'll be off."

With a tip of his hat and a wink, he was gone.

"Yeah, I do not care for him." Nancy told the room.

"I'm with Nancy," Sam said, raising his hand, "we're not putting him in charge of anything are we?"

"We can trust him," Montgomery affirmed much to everyone's surprise. "I lived in the Capital before coming here," He explained, "The exploits of the Lone Wanderer are legendary."

"So let's point him at the general direction of the Gunners and back away slowly." Sam suggested.

"Isn't that what we just did?" Montgomery asked.

"Don't you sass me, young man."

* * *

"What's close?" Liam asked Piper, the first words he'd said since leaving Allen's house.

"Say again?" She asked, cupping an ear.

"What's nearby?" He said again, "Big enough for a Gunners hideout, far enough away we wouldn't notice, close enough to be dangerous."

"Concord is close," Piper told him. "Just past the Red Rocket station. Lexington maybe, but that's full up on raiders and Ghouls."

Liam nodded thoughtfully. "We'll pass by Concord, but my money's Lexington." Liam scrolled through his pip boy before abruptly changing the subject. "What's the classical station?" He asked.

"What it says on the tin," Piper said, scanning the horizon "Classical music."

"Who runs it?" Liam asked, pressing a button causing music to flow gently from his pipboy.

"Don't quite know really." Piper shrugged finally turning to face Liam, "Probably a remnant from before the bombs fell. Why do you ask?"

Liam was nodding along to the music, using one hand to conduct, "Idle curiosity getting the better of me." He gave a smile and opened his eyes, "Could be the title of my autobiography...well" He reconsidered, "that or 'the sudden and dawning realisation he fucked up.'"

"Make many mistakes, then?" Piper asked, her tone changing from inquisitive to genuine.

"More than some," Liam shrugged, pulling his hat down, hiding his eyes, "Not as many as others." He crossed his arms, rubbing his biceps as if to warm himself. "Back home they call me the 'Lone Wanderer'; it's for a moderately good reason. The life I live, it's a dangerous one." Liam uncrossed his arms, setting them on his hips, "I'd rather there be as little collateral damage as possible."

"You sound like Allen." Piper observed.

"Marks and I are a lot alike." Liam shrugged and shook his head, "Now quit the chit-chat. If I have one day to figure things out I don't want to waste time."

* * *

Allen was currently leading his entourage through the wooded outskirts of Sanctuary Hills. Minutemen and Regulators made for a loud group, though luckily stealth didn't seem like a priority.

"Running the risk of asking a stupid question." Preston said, ducking under a branch "Where are we going?"

"When Nora first suggested the idea of moving to the suburbs," Allen started "She thought I'd be against it."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Dennis stage whispered to John.

"Shh," Deacon hushed them curtly, "He'll get around to it eventually."

"Imagine her surprise," Allen continued either oblivious or apathetic to the whispering, "When I readily agreed."

"He's waiting for someone to ask why," Lauren whispered to the gang. "Why'd you agree then?"

"Because about a mile or so out from Sanctuary Hills, was one of the CIA's contingency plans." Allen explained, "We liked to be prepared for anything, even an invasion on American soil, so strategically placed throughout the major American cities were weapons caches so that CIA agents could form civilian militias and cause trouble for whoever decided to fuck with us."

Allen stopped and pointed at a hatch, "Military grade weapons in specially designed cases to help outlast the ages," Allen leaned over to try to turn the cog, "Should give us the edge we need." He grunted through his words.

"Why are we just hearing about this now?" Nancy demanded, leaning over to help, "The Minutemen could have used these weapons."

"We're...using...them...now" The last word came out as a gasp, as the cog finally loosened and started turning seamlessly, "This isn't the kind of trump card you waste on a minor threat."

"You think the Muties and Raiders have been minor?" Preston asked, throwing the hatch open.

"I think we've been managing," Allen answered starting his decent, "But if things got bad, then yes, I would have used this then instead of now."

The Regulators and the Minutemen just stared at each other above the entrance.

"What are we waiting for?" Sam Smith asked, "An invitation from god?"

He started down the the ladder.

To call what they found in the bunker a weapons cache would be a bit of an understatement, to call it the groundworks for full fledged army would be a tad dramatic, but then again Agent Marks always had a flair for the dramatic.

"What we have here is the groundworks for a re-creation of the United states army," he declared, reaching for the weapons on the shelves. "Observe." He pulled a rifle from the stands, "M4A1 assault rifle, can switch from full auto, semi auto, and three round bursts. Reliable and steadfast, an infantryman's best friend."

"Dibs." Sam said, reaching for the weapon.

"Mossberg," Agent Marks held up another weapon, "Pump action shotgun twelve gauge, point the end with the hole at the general direction of something you want to die and watch it go" Allen lightly tossed it at Dennis, "this one's for you, crack-shot."

"I feel like I should be offended." Dennis mused, examining the weapon.

"SR-25 sniper rifle." Agent Marks glossed over Dennis's potentially hurt feelings, "twenty rounds in a magazine, effective range of however far you can see through the scope, because there's no better cover than half a kilometer." He practically hugged the rifle.

"Do you need a moment alone?" Lauren teased.

"There's more," Agent Marks continued, "But our pride and joy is over there."

He pointed at a mounted machine gun.

"Browning fifty caliber machine, it has a habit of making someone's problems die." The wry grin on Agent Marks faded and he turned to his lieutenants, "Catalog everything, I need to know how much of every gun, bullet, and explosive we have in here."

Deacon had other ideas as to what he wanted to do.

"Hey boss," he said, pointing at a door, "what's though here?" he asked, opening it.

"Listening post," Allen answered, following Deacon through. "Bugs, radio towers, cell towers...CIA was plugged in and this is how we monitored it all."

Whatever conversation they were about to have was derailed by the skeleton sitting in front of a wall of monitors.

"Think you knew this guy?" Deacon asked, pointing at the skelton.

"Probably not," Allen mused, walking around to look at the desk, "Poor sap," He crouched down and pointed, a gun was lying beneath the guys hand, that and the hole in the skull told a pretty obvious story.

"You got a holotape player on that pipboy of yours?" Deacon asked.

"Yeah," Allen stood up, "why?" deacon held out a holotape to Allen.

"Found it on the desk," He shrugged, "It's not much, but he must have wanted someone to hear it." Allen nodded, and slipped the holotape into his Pipboy.

The tape began.

_"The last will and testament of Francis Marion..."_

* * *

When Piper and Liam came across Lexington, it was eerily quiet.

"That's different." Piper mused staring at the town through binoculars.

"What is?" Liam asked, peering through his own pair.

"The last time I was here, it was infested with raiders and ferals," Piper explained, "Now nothing."

"I wouldn't say nothing." Liam countered, "there are a lot of lights on in the factory for someplace abandoned."

"So what now?" Piper asked, turning to Liam, who had pocketed his binoculars and was already making his way to the Corvega factory.

"Advanced recon." He said over his shoulder, as if that explained everything.

It turned out that the Corvega factory was crawling with Gunners, melting the cars and scrap metal down, all that activity was bad in many ways, but when everyone has a job, no one is paying attention to anything else, which left room for a plucky reporter and a fearless Regulator to sneak in.

"Okay, we did our 'advanced recon'" Piper said, pulling at Liam's sleeve, "let's go."

"And do what?" Liam asked, "Come back later with reinforcements? If we attack this place with Minutemen help, a lot of good people will die."

"And if we try it on our own, we'll die." Piper chastised, quickly picking up on Liam's intent.

"Correction, I'll maybe die, you'll go back to Sanctuary and tell Marks what we found," Liam ordered.

"Allen told me to keep you out of trouble." Piper reminded, "Not let you single handedly take on whatever the hell this is."

Liam pulled his arm away from Piper and, without breaking eye contact, pulled a grenade from his jacket pulled the pin and threw it down onto the Gunners beneath them.

"Tell him you failed." He pushed her away. She paused just long enough to see him turn away, and unveil a Mac-10 he had won in a dice game.

So Piper ran, hating herself all the way.

She'd been running away from a lot of fights lately, from a lot of bad days. She'd let far to many people get hurt protecting her and she'd had enough. After today...no more running.

* * *

It took less than an hour for the Corvega factory to be nearly consumed with flames, the Gunners chased Liam out of the factory and into Lexington city, but it didn't take long for them to learn the difference between being chased and being baited.

In the dark of the night, in the winding roads of the city, away from their fortifications and high ground, they were easy prey.

The sun rising symbolized much, but the gunshot accompanying it symbolised the end of the fight, and Liam's victory.

For a moment Liam sat on the edge one of Lexington's skyscrapers, laser burned, buck shot, and a switchblade the last gunner put in his side being kept in place, but alive and watching the sun rise.

"Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven." Liam kissed a medallion that hung around his neck, stabbed a stimpak into his thigh, and made for ground floor.

It had been a long night and a good start.


	7. You'll never walk alone

There was a certain luxury to being bottom rung on the chain of command, you were given your orders and you carried them out; it was a luxury that Allen missed on occasion, never more so than when others were looking to him for leadership.

"The fact of the matter," Allen said to his lieutenants, back in his Sanctuary home, "We lack any real intel on the Gunners."

He was sitting on his counter, his elbows resting on his knees. "Scouting reports yes, but names, a chain of command, we're blundering in the dark here."

"I don't see how that's important," Sam commented, laying on Allen's couch. "If we kill enough Gunners, eventually there won't be any left."

"They're not Raiders," Nancy argued, "There's a chain of command, if we leave the top then they can rebuild."

"There's no use waging a war unless we know when it's over," Allen mused before leaping off of the counter, "Get the word out - 'large caps bounty for any former Gunners able to provide actionable intelligence of Gunners operations.'"

"Understood," Montgomery said with a salute, "Any specific sum?"

"Depends on how useful the intel is," Allen said, "Exercise your best judgement, remember our resources are limited."

He nodded towards the door, "Dismissed."  
The lieutenants filed out quietly then, as if he had been waiting in line, Deacon entered.

"The Operative," he nodded in greeting.

"Deacon."

"So…."Deacon drummed his fingers along the counter, "did you listen to that holotape yet?"

A few hours earlier, when Allen had realised exactly what he had been listening too, he had ejected the holotape and threw it back on the counter as if touching it would have burned him.

"No." Allen said firmly, "Left in in the bunker."

"Oh I know." Deacon said, pulling the holotape from his pocket and waving it in Allen's face. "But I had hoped you had gone back to listen to it."

"Now why would I do that?" Allen sneered, pushing Deacons arm away from him.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Deacon started, pocketing the holotape, "But Francis Marion was your old CO."

"He was a lot of people's CO," Allen refuted, "That doesn't mean anything"

"It's funny that you think you can lie to me." Deacon said, going to Allen's fridge and grabbing a Nuka Cola and offering it to Allen. "What are you afraid of hearing?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," Allen mumbled through the effort of opening the soda.

"Sure," Deacon was unconvinced, "Whatever you say, boss, but I'd wager…."

Whatever Deacon was about to wager would have to wait, seeing as Preston burst through Allen's doors.

"General!" He practically shouted, "Piper's back!"

"Inside voice, Preston." Allen admonished.

"Sorry," Preston, shrugged "But Piper is back…"

"Yeah, we got that part." Deacon said.

"Without Liam." Preston glared at Deacon.

Allen was the first one out the door, the 'goddamnit's leaving him at such a rapid fire pace they seemed to surpass the number of steps he took.

He found Piper, still at the bridge, his lieutenants and Lauren listening to her tell a story.

"Yeah," Lauren said, ruffling the back of her hair, "'Advanced Recon' is Liam talk for 'let's start shooting and see what happens.'"

"If I could have gotten a copy of this 'Liam Dictionary' before we left, I would have been grateful." Piper said.

"I'd try to get Liam to apologize," Lauren shrugged, "but he wouldn't mean it."

"Hold on," Allen interrupted, stepping between Lauren and Piper, turning frantically between the two, "Be kind, rewind, what happened?"

"Long story short, we found the Gunners newest base of operations." Piper explained.

"Where is it?" Allen demanded.

"It was" Piper stressed the change in tense, "In Lexington, the old Corvega factory."

"Is it still in Lexington, the old Corvega factory?" Allen asking the question was more of a formality than anything else.

"No," Piper shook her head, "Liam insisted we sneak inside to take a look and then he lit the place up."

"Is he okay?" Montgomery asked.

"Last I saw him, he seemed fine, but that was a while ago."

"Shame." Sam commented. "That it was a while ago," he quickly clarified.

"Allright," Allen said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Everyone except Piper go about your business, I'll get you if I need you."

Allen waited until everyone was out of sight before restarting the conversation.

"Are you okay?" He asked, placing a hand on Piper's shoulder.

"I'm all right, all things considered."

"Do you need a hug?" Allen asked

"Is that a serious question?" Piper asked, a smirk pulling at her lips.

Allen shrugged, "It will likely be extremely awkward, but yes, it was sincere."

He let his hand fall from Piper's shoulder.

"I'll be fine." Piper affirmed with a nod, "So what now?"

"Tell me everything," Allen requested, "From the start."

And so she did. Finding Corvega, Liam blowing their cover, her running away. All that less than fun stuff.

"So what now?" Piper asked, clapping her hands together. "If Liam's even alive he's going to need help."

"We need to be patient." Allen explained, pacing, "He probably brought all manner of hell down on him thanks to the noise, we need to wait until things cool down before we can start looking."

"How long?" Piper demanded, "I'm no expert on Liam but if he's in bad shape, he doesn't have long."

"Morning." Allen nodded, mostly to himself, "If he's not here by morning, I'll send out some scouts to look for him."

* * *

Glory was worried about Curie, or to be more accurate, she was telling herself she was worried about G5-19's body, that's it.

That's all, that's why she left Railroad HQ with just a note telling Des she was taking care of personal business.

The only reason she'd been on the move for about a day without rest was because she wanted to make sure the Tough Old Bastard didn't get her best friend's body killed. Sure, there were rumors that the general of the Minutemen got taken down by a Gunner ambush, but the important part of the story was the girl in critical condition matching Curie's description.

She had one goal: assess the condition of G5-19's body. She wasn't making a beeline for sanctuary hills for the scenery. It wouldn't do to get distracted, especially by unconscious cowboy lying in the middle of the path.

Wait, what?

"You okay?" Glory asked, poking the unconscious man with a stick. "You dead?"

The cowboy grunted into the dirt.

"I don't really have time for this." Glory mumbled, staring down the road, "I really don't"

The cowboy grunted again.

"Besides," Glory poked the man with the stick a second time, "How do I know you're worth it?"

The cowboy had nothing to say.

"You could be an addict," Glory rubbed the back of her head, "Or a thief, or a new raider..."

Now, despite all the voices in her head screaming at her to go, there was another voice, calmer saying just one thing "What would the Old Bastard do?"

"Alright fine," Glory said, reaching down to pick up the man, slinging him over her back, "I'm going to Sanctuary Hills, don't like it? Tough."

"You have comfortable shoulders," The cowboy murmured, nuzzling the aforementioned shoulders.

"Try anything and I drop you." Glory warned.

The cowboy grunted into her shoulder.

* * *

Allen was pacing his office. Before all hell broke loose, he'd use this room for things like paperwork, reading, or just to sit quietly and decompress. His office was a place to be alone and somehow that tradition continued from pre-bombs to post.

So when someone came knocking on his door, he knew it was important.

"Hey, Blue," Piper said through the cracked open door, resembling the cat that ate the cannery. "How's it going?"

"Well enough, I suppose" Allen said, opening the door, "trying to iron out what we know about the Gunners."

Allen shuffled through the reports on his desk. He either didn't notice how blatantly uncomfortable Piper seemed to be or he was being polite.

"So, listen," Piper shifted in place, kicking her toes against her heel, "Here's the thing," she handed him a note. "Deacon told me you found something? Something that was bothering you."

Allen unfolded the note with a sigh, there were two words -  _not sorry._

"How much did he tell you?" Allen asked, throwing the note onto his desk.

"He told me you found something in the bunker," Piper explained, "Something that threw you off your game, something you've been ignoring."

Allen just nodded to himself, picking up a holotape from his desk and putting it into his pipboy.

" _The last will and testament of Francis Marion_ ," was all that came out before Allen paused it.

Piper had a one syllable response. "Oh."

"Yeah," Allen said, "Oh."

He fell backwards onto the couch. Piper pulled nearby chair in front of him and sat down.

"So what are you going to do with it?" She asked.

"I'm surprised you're not trying to convince me to listen to it." Allen grumbled, staring at his Piboy.

"I feel like I'm getting better at the whole 'respecting your privacy' thing." Piper explained, "but I must admit, I'm curious, and if you're going to listen to it, it might help to listen to it with someone."

Allen didn't say anything.

"I can get Deacon," she offered to Allen's unresponsive figure. "I'm getting Deacon."

"Wait." Allen said softly, as speaking too loud would scare her away. "Please."

Without another word, Piper sat down. Equally quiet was Allen pressing play.

"... _Although, all things considered, it's more like a last testament, it's not like I have anything left to give._ "

Marion gave out a single dry and humorless chuckle.

" _So much to say, so many goodbyes; friends, few as there may have been. Agents under my command, few as there may still be."_

Allen gave a visible flinch when Marion mentioned his agents.

" _All things considered, I guess it would be too much to ask for this to be found, even more for it to be found by someone who would even know who I am_."

There was an inhale, it could have been anything but Allen knew Marion had taken a drag of a cigar.

" _But hope is a tricky little bastard, even now, even after all this, it still exists still here, still shining._

Even after all the evils had been released, there will always be the rose in the box

."

Allen finally said something "Marion always did like his myths."

" _I guess...I guess if i wanted anyone to find this I would want it to be one of my agents. One of the many young men and women whose lives I tore to shreds."_  
  
Allen's hand flinched when Marion began to laugh; it made it's way to his Pipboy, but Piper caught it, intertwined her fingers with his, and set them on his knee.

" _I guess that's it! Huh! A million and one sins on my hands alone; Quebec, Berlin, Kioto, Seoul, Kyro, to name but a few_."

Allen's eyes closed.

" _But no! All I can think about is what I made others do in my name! St Petersburg, Dublin, Kiev, Madrid, Istanbul."_

Allen's eyes flew open at "Kiev." and he gasped as if all the air in his lungs rushed out at once.

" _All they ever wanted was to end the war, they looked to me to finally lead them into peace but NO! I tore them into shreds, killed who they were, gave them new names and saw them reborn into demons."_

Allen's eyes screwed shut, he started to shake his head violently from side to side.

"  _They fought behind enemy lines, cold and alone, committing war crimes that we called necessary evils. We found them all bright eyed and bushy tailed, I still remember what they said. 'Anything, whatever it takes.' Instead they made it worse_."

"We had to," Allen almost pleaded with his Pipboy, "We had to."

" _All because we thought we could win. Instead the frog boiled hotter and hotter until it burst, and now all that's left is the guilt of once good men, and the shadows of souls that burned away to ash_."

Allen gripped Piper's hand harder, as if it was tethering him to the here and now.

" _Finch, Wilson, Shaw, Marks, Murdock, if any of you hear this and have the heart to believe anything I have left to say then please, for the love of whatever higher power would let this happen, this was my fault!"_

Allen tore his hand away from Piper's and threw them both into his hair. He stood and paced the room frantically, as if trying to escape the words.

" _All you ever were... were patriots, you were the best out of all of us. The burden you carried for people who couldn't understand what you were trying to do! You wanted to be our salvation and we turned you into scapegoats_."

By then Allen had sat back down, but his hands still in his hair, as if he were trying to tear it out.

" _Please, if any of you find this, if any you have mercy still in your hearts, use some of it on yourselves..._

This was on me."

Slowly Allen's hands loosened their grip on his scalp, one of them found Pipers hand.

" _It was my call_."

Allen took a deep breath.

" _This is on me_."

The tick symbolized the end of the recording.

For quite some time, Piper and Allen just sat there, eventually he let go of her hand and just folded them together and pressed them against his forehead, leaning forward as if he were praying.

"Hey Allen?"

Allen's hands twitched at the sound, fingers extending in alarm.

"Blue," She tried again, to her relief he seemed to relax. "Blue…" She trailed off. There weren't words. What words could there be? "Blue," she tried again.

"It was always easier not to think about it." Allen whispered, still hunched over staring at the ground, "It all seemed so long ago...six months, nuclear fallout, Shaun, and Nora ago. There were days when I almost forgot that it was me, put enough distance between you, detach yourself enough and it seemed like just a news story." Allen lifted his head, eyes wet with unshed tears, "but it wasn't. It was real." Allen put his head back down. "And it was pointless. A waste of life."

Piper wrapped her arms around Allen's shoulders and pressed her cheek to his back.

"Blue." was all she said, the word cut off as if there was more to come, but if there were words to make it all better they hovered just out of reach, so she was left with just the ability to hug Allen close and say "Blue."

Maybe that was enough. Piper hoped it was, she hoped it was enough to just call him 'Blue,' she hoped he knew what she was trying to say. That nothing had changed, at least between them.

She hoped that he knew that everytime she said "Blue." what she was really saying was,"I'm still here and I still care, and you're still here and you're still you, and that whatever the past all that matters is what you do from the moment I called you Blue onward and so far you've done a damn good job."

But she couldn't find those words yet, so all she did was hug him and call him "Blue."


	8. Hang em High

Eventually, both Allen and Piper got some sleep. Allen collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling until his eyelids were heavy enough and he fell asleep. Piper elected for Allen's couch, curling up and counting breaths until finally she, too, got some rest.

It was a restless sleep for both, which was indicative of the day to follow.

That day started, as most things in the suburb did, on the bridge leading into the neighborhood.

"Who are you?" Lauren demanded, her hand pointedly resting on her pistol.

Now, admittedly, Allen was still wiping the sleep from his eyes, but he was pretty certain Glory was standing there with Liam slung over her shoulder like a backpack.

"A very close friend of mine," Allen defended the pair, moving to stand between Lauren and Glory.

"And somebody with very comfortable shoulders." Liam said, his voice muffled.

"Oh," Lauren said, visibly relaxing at Liam's declaration, "He's probably fine."

She shrugged. "You can set him down."

"You sure?" Glory asked. "He seemed pretty beat up."

"Please. set me down," came Liam's muffled request.

Gently, Glory placed down Liam, who stood up tall and grinned.

"Thank you kindly," he said, his face ghostly white, "Two seconds, please."

With that, he toppled over, falling over the railing and into the river.

"Oh fuck!" Allen practically tore his jacket off, and was about to follow Liam into the river before being stopped by Lauren.

"Eh, give him a minute."

She tried to put a hand on Allen's chest, but Allen was in no mood for bravado. He grabbed her thumb and twisted it back, until Lauren was in just enough pain to not stop him from jumping into the river.

Lauren, Piper, and Preston raced to the river bank and by the time they got there, Allen was pulling Liam out of the water.

"We need…" Allen gasped through water-logged breathes, "To get him...to the infirmary."

"We could throw him back in the water," Lauren suggested, "Just putting that out there."

Liam spoke up, half-dazed, "Please, put me back in the water."

"He's in shock," Preston observed, throwing one of Liam's arms over his shoulder. "Piper, go get Percival."

What happened next happened very quickly - Liam was in the infirmary, moments later there was Percival, and then they were tearing Liam's shirt open to better examine the wounds. The material wasn't even all the way off before they were pouring water to wash away the caked on blood. At that point, everything stopped.

Because instead of various wounds oozing or gushing blood, what they saw was those same wounds slowly stitching themselves back together.

"What the what?" Percival stuttered, staring. "That's…"

"Ghoulish," Liam provided, color starting to return to his face.

Allen was shaking his head, "How the hell…"

"Luck," Liam said, "Dumbass, wholesale Irish fucking luck."

"That's not an answer," Percival said.

"Radiation mutates," Liam explained, "Sometimes in good ways, most of the time in bad. Me," Liam gave a shit eating grin, "I got the good stuff. Rads in the right doses keep me on my feet and healthy almost as well as a ghoul."

"In the wrong doses?" Allen asked.

"Still human," Liam reminded, "Die just as dead as anyone."

"That's amazing." Preston exclaimed.

"Indeed," Liam nodded, "Now, leave me in the sun with my shirt off for an hour or two and I'll be right as rain." He fell back on the bedding and closed his eyes.

"He's not asleep," Lauren said from the doorway, "But he'll be pretending he is until you leave him alone."

Allen and company filed out, leaving Lauren with the (sort of) unconscious Liam.

Allen was the first to speak up.

"Already a trying day and it's not even nine." He shook his head at his Pipboy.

"It's about to get worse." Deacons voice warned, appearing from behind Glory.

"Heyyy, Deacon." Glory greeted, doing a bad job of looking innocent, "How are things?"

"What are you doing here?" Deacon demanded. His glasses may have hidden his glare but not the menace behind his words.

"Checking on G5-19's body." Glory explained, "I heard about what happened and I got worried."

"I'm surprised Des gave you clearance to come here." Deacon's tone left no doubt that he thought Glory had forgone Des's permission, and Glory knew it.

"Well," Glory shrugged, having the decency to look sheepish, "I figured this is more of a forgiveness rather than permission thing."

Allen recognized the look on Deacon's face. His eyes were probably closed and he was definitely counting to ten. Deacon turned to Allen, the tensed expression dropping quickly.

"This is actually pretty fortunate timing," Deacon said, the one-eighty in his tone giving everybody whiplash, "I was planning on heading back to HQ."

"You don't have to do that." Allen protested, "Glory could go back."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

Glossing over Glory's remark, Deacon justified his position. "I'm not a soldier, you have enough scouts."

"We'll find a place for you here." Allen insisted.

"Boss," Deacon tilted his head pointedly, "are you honestly telling me I'd be more useful in this than Glory, the ass-kicking angel of death?"

"I'm still here, right?" Glory asked Piper, "I'm not hallucinating, right?"

"At least this way," Deacon continued, "I know you'll be looked after until you come back." He paused and considered the words he had spoken. "You are coming back?"

"Sooner or later," Allen confirmed, holding out his hand.

"I'll hold you to that." Deacon promised, shaking Allen's hand.

"Do you two need a moment alone?" Glory asked, pointing between the them.

"Please," Allen scoffed, "I could do better than Deacon."

"That offends me for some reason." Deacon grumbled. "Why does that offend me?"

"Wait?" Piper interrupted, "Blue do you swing that way?"

Allen shrugged, "I don't not swing that way."

Nobody really had a response to that.

"So, anyway," Deacon changed the subject, "I heard you're looking for Gunner's informants."

"Anyone that can give us an edge," Allen confirmed. "Why, you know somebody?"

"There's this one merc, stationed out of Goodneighbor, expensive but worth it."

"What's his name?"

"Robert Joseph Maccready."

* * *

Liam had a warm chest.

That didn't really have anything to do with anything, but it does explain why Lauren was using it as a pillow in lieu of an actual pillow.

"Hello, trouble," she greeted as his eyes opened.

Before answering he made a "meowing" noise, not unlike that of a cat, "Sorry, did I fall asleep on you?"

"Under me, actually," she corrected, sitting up, "But don't worry." She crawled up and gave Liam a quick kiss, "We had enough fun before you passed out."

"That's good to hear," Liam said, running his fingers through Laurens hair. "Glad to know I haven't gotten rusty."

"You know you could practice without me." Lauren reminded him, finally laying her head on an actual pillow next to him.

"Don't really feel the need to," Liam said dismissively, "Not when I'm greeted like that."

He leaned over and pressed his forehead to Lauren's.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you missed me."

Lauren gave a humorless chuckle.

"When Piper got here without you, some people got a little worried."

"Oh yeah," a grin spread along Liam's face, "What if I told 'some people' that I'm a big boy and can handle myself?"

By this point any trace of humor had left Lauren's expression.

"'Some people' wouldn't be entirely convinced," Lauren sat up letting the blankets fall off of her, "They'd remind you that everyone's luck runs out eventually." Lauren turned to stare at him, "Liam, what are we doing here?"

Liam pushed himself up the bed, until he was laying back on the bed frame, "Whaddya mean? We're here fighting the good fight."

"They barely want us here, we're hardly going to make a dent in their problems before we have to leave, and they seem to have a handle on things," Lauren listed, "We should be back at home, fighting our own good fight."

"The Brotherhood is my responsibility." Liam proclaimed.

"Don't give me that." Lauren demanded, "If that was really why you were here we'd be walking away from the smoldering wreck of the Prydwen half-dead by now."

"You're not wrong." Liam admitted.

"So tell me the truth," She begged, "Why are we still here?" Liam groaned, as if answering Lauren would be physically taxing.

"I'm worried about Marks." And there it was, "Everyday that passes I worry more."

"Why?" Lauren demanded.

"He's Moses." He explained, "He's a man thrust into a role he's barely qualified for, leading people who barley want to be, to a place they can only hope exists."

Liam leaned over and wrapped his arms around Lauren, pulling them back into a lying position, "That's a burden not everybody can handle." He let out a humorless chuckle, "Goodness knows I barely did."

"You were alone." Lauren pointed out, "Allen has friends, and soon he'll have family." Liam didn't respond, but his silence carried weight.

"You don't think he's going to find Shaun," she asked, "do you?"

Liam shook his head, "Do stories like his ever end the way they're supposed to?" He asked, "The wastelands are filled with lost sons and fathers searching for them." Lauren didn't respond, at least not verbally. What she did do was wrap her arms around Liam and squeeze.

"You suck at pillow talk."

* * *

Allen checked his Pip-boy watch before letting out an irritated grunt and throwing his hand into his hair.

"Everything all right, Blue?" Piper asked, strolling into his office.

"Just anxious to get started," he deflected. "But after the stunt Liam pulled, there's no way I'm leaving him unsupervised again."

"Good plan." Piper agreed, nodding.

There was silence.

"Look Piper..." Allen tried.

"Hey, Blue…"

They tried again.

"The plan as it is…"

"Here's the thing…"

And once more.

"Can I please just..."

"You go first."

Finally.

"So here's the thing," Allen said, holding his hands out as if the "thing" was in them. "We're going to Goodneighbor, and on the way we'll be stopping by Diamond City to restock and..." Allen rubbed the back of his neck, "I was just thinking…"

"I won't be staying." Piper declared, crossing her arms, "If that's what you're wondering, I'm coming with you."

Allen was visibly thrown by Piper's interruption.

"I was actually going to say I would understand if you needed to stay behind." he clarified, "This is going to be a bit more than we're used to, I would understand if you needed to stay at home," Allen rubbed his hands together, "With Nat, and the paper, and anything else in Diamond City."

"I'm surprised you're not trying to convince me to stay behind." Piper admitted, "'Stay safe, Piper, I've got this handled, Piper, leave this to people better than you, Piper'" She said in a poor imitation of Allen.

Allen seemed hurt by the assumption, "Is that really how you think I view you?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"I mean," she shrugged, "Kinda,"

Allen had to physically resist the urge to hug her.

"Piper," Allen started, "I'm only going to say this once and we're going to leave it at that. Okay?" He waited for Piper to nod in agreement. "I kinda need this world with you in it."

She didn't respond, for two reasons; one, Allen very suddenly rushed out the door murmuring, "Gonna pull Liam out of bed by his toes if I have to," and two, she suddenly forgot most words in English language.


	9. The battle rages on

No one knows what the Commonwealth will look like in a hundred years, but if there are history books then the year 2281 will definitely have its own chapter. And it will start on February 27th, the beginning of the Gunners War.When does something change from news to history?

Eventually people will speculate on what happened, on what was fact or fiction, kids will play war games in their backyards with sticks for guns, arguing over who gets to be Minutemen or Gunners.

But for the time being, it’s not a distant memory or speculative history.

For the time being, it’s news.

There are still people who remember how calm it seemed the night before, how the entire commonwealth seemed to breathe one last calm, easy breath, and how everyone seemed to sit together, sharing one last peaceful moment.

* * *

 

The scene was almost picturesque, a campfire keeping everyone warm, blankets and coats keeping everyone comfortable.

If it hadn’t been for Liam's less than graceful awakening, you could almost call it peaceful.

Liam had woken like a housecat waking to thunder. Lot’s flailing, skirting, and even metaphoric claws out in the form of a revolver being pointed at the sky.

“And that’s why I never sleep with a gun,” Allen, who until recently had been tending to the campfire, remarked.

“Hard to sleep without it,” Liam panted out.

“Bad dreams?” Allen asked, maintaining a casual demeanor.

“Yeah,” Liam confirmed, holstering his gun and flicking his hands open and closed as if getting water off of them. “Can’t seem to shake ‘em.”

Liam shook his head like a dog. “How ‘bout you? Do you get nightmares?”

“Sometimes,” Allen admitted, “My therapist once told me that there are three common types of nightmares: what we’ve done, what’s been done to us, what we’ve seen.” He seemed to gloss over his own admission. “What kind of nightmares do you have?”

“Six of one, half dozen of the other.” Liam said, forgetting there were three options, “I’ve done a lotta killing, Marks, that sort of thing wears on you.” He finally seemed to wake up, dragging himself closer to the fire. “But the worst ones are those of my friends, ya’know, the people I couldn't protect.”

Liam gave a humorless chuckle, “Guess I don’t need to explain it to you. You probably know better than anyone what it’s like to hold a friend while they die.”

Allen shuffled a bit, seeming rather uncomfortable by Liam’s observation.

“You’re mostly right.” Allen finally admitted, “I know loss, but I’ve never actually held a friend, someone I tried to protect, in my arms as they died.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Closest I came was losing Nora, and even that was between a glass and steel door,” Allen said. He tried to explain, “I was a spy. When I lost friends, they were usually a continent away.”

“I’d say you were lucky but…” Liam trailed off.

Allen replied, “It’s hard to see a guy who lived through a nuclear fallout as lucky.”

Liam snapped and pointed his finger. “True.”

He looked over their sleeping companions, his eyes pausing on the sleeping Curie. “You sure it was a good idea to bring Curie along?”

“She wants to help,” Allen said, “At least this way I can keep her close, keep her safe.”

“That’s not how that works, Marks,” Liam chastised him quietly, as if he couldn't keep the words in but was hoping Allen wouldn't hear them.

“Pardon?”

“I said,” Liam spoke slightly louder than necessary, “That’s not how that works, Marks.”

Liam shuffled a little closer to Allen, “There’s no ‘radius of safety’ around us. People can get hurt around us just as much as they can get hurt elsewhere.”

Allen opened his mouth as if to respond, but no words came out.

“‘I tried’ are not comforting words, Marks,” Liam continued, “You’ll always wonder if there's more you could have done, I hope to God you never have to learn that lesson.”

“I’ve been at this longer than you have,” Allen pointed out, “I bet I could teach you a thing or two.”

“This is a new world, Marks,” Liam reminded him, “don’t get too attached to your way.”

“Or what?” Allen challenged.

“Or you’ll end up dead or, worse, you’ll be too obsessed with bringing back the old world that you’ll forget to find your place in this one.”

Liam’s words had gravity, as if each syllable was weighted by stories he’d rather not tell.

“If I tell you to shut up and sleep, will you actually follow that order?” Allen demanded.

“I’ll have you know, Marks, I always follow orders.” Liam said, laying back down, “I just prioritize my orders to myself first.”

* * *

 

There are still people who remember those who couldn't handle it, who remember seeing unflappable friends being sent home, because their nerves were so shot they became a danger to themselves or worse.

* * *

 

Curie had been the first to go. She returned to Dr. Amari, to the relative safety of Goodneighbor. Too many patients, too many people left behind, too many people lost to a simple lack of stimpaks.

Curie wanted to help, she wanted to heal, she had heart, and did not leave quietly.

“I can still help, monsieur,” she assured the retreating back of Allen.

“Not with those hands,” Allen said, turning around, and motioning slightly to Curie’s trembling hands. “You’re smart, Curie, you know that this isn’t the place for you, not right now.”

“Monsieur!”

“Curie,” Allen sighed and placed a hand on Curie’s shoulder, “You’ve gone as far as you can go, there's no shame in this. Please, for my own sake, go back to Amari.”

* * *

 

For the time being there are Minutemen who still know what it’s like to try to hold a position and for all to seem lost, when all of a sudden, strangers in brown coats appear and turn the tide.

There are still people who cried out the general's name as if it were God’s in hope that either would save them.

* * *

 

There were twenty-five yards of no man’s land between the Minutemen and the Gunners. And our boys in tricorne hats were low on ammo. Somehow the Gunners sensed it and made to charge.

But the first one who made himself a target went down, it didn’t take long for the second one to hit the ground, exactly as long as it takes to eject a bullet casing and queue up a new one.

This was a familiar enough occurrence, and while he didn’t stick around, by now the Minutemen had figured it out.

When every  shot seems lucky, and blind shooting becomes kill shots, when no one knows where the shooting is coming from, it’s coming from the general, and what he puts in his sights, he puts on the ground.

* * *

 

Eventually the list of the fallen would become...just that, a list.

Sacrifices from so long ago no one really feels the weight anymore, no one knows how each one died.

But for now, even the least likable were heroes.

* * *

 

“If I wanted foreplay I would have talked to your mother!”

An hour ago, in front of a dozen Minutemen prisoners, the Gunners took Lauren Mcnamara and Dennis Murray into a side room for interrogation.

“If you shag your boyfriend this softly, no wonder he came to me for a good time.”

Dennis was supposed to scream, he was supposed to beg for it to stop, he was supposed to turn on Lauren, to tell them anything, just to make them hurt her instead of him.

“Careful, if you keep hitting me that hard you’ll give me a hard on.”

Instead ten minutes later an unscathed Lauren rejoined her comrades, only for an unnamed Minuteman to take her place.

“C’mon, a threesome’s only fun when your girl’s there,” Dennis continued his taunts focusing the Gunners on him and his smart mouth “How’s she doing anyway, does she still moan my name in her sleep?”

Dennis lasted an hour and twenty-three minutes, before it became too much, before the wounds became too ghastly.

His resolve never wavered, and when he was found dead on the ground, an hour and thirty minutes from the moment his interrogation started, it was only his body that was broken, never his will.

* * *

 

People would eventually wonder why the war ended the way it did. Why, when the war had been so surgical, the assault on Quincy had seemed so improvised.

But there were a dozen and some change witnesses to the breaking point. A dozen people who saw the look in Liam’s eyes as he poked at Dennis’s side, like a pup pawing at a dead friend, who saw something in him snap. A dozen or so saw it, but only Allen could keep up, only Allen could match Liam step for step on their way to Quincy.

A long night, before a really long day.

* * *

Liam and Allen were holed up in the Quincy church, the one piece of Quincy real estate they had managed to hold onto.

The only part of the original plan they had managed to hold onto was to clear the overpass for a vertibird the Minutemen had managed to commandeer.

As the reinforcements made their way downstairs, Sam Smith greeted them.

“Having a bad day?” he inquired.

“Better with a few friends by my side,” Allen reassured him, shaking Sam's hand.

The reunion was quickly interrupted, not by Gunners though, but by a series of electrical bursts, each one signaling the arrival of a synth.

For a moment, it was almost comical, Allen and his Makarov quickly dispatched the pseudo-humans.

But it was the final electrical burst that made things interesting.

The person that came out didn’t seem synth like, didn’t seem like a scientist, no.  With not a doubt in Allen’s mind, this was a courser.

“B3-28 Initialization…” The courser started, approaching Sam.

“Run, Sam, run!” Allen ordered, rushing the courser.

Reaching the newcomer, Allen cradled the back of the courser’s head with his left hand and struck with his right.

For a moment, it seemed all the synth could do was get hit. Allen pulled every trick he remembered, every tactic, every style he’d ever known or practiced.

But punching the synth was like hitting a practice dummy, it just seemed to keep getting back up.

The coursers weren’t the Institutes ultimate weapon for nothing and eventually he caught Allen’s hand, twisting it, pulling the arm, and striking the shoulder.

Even with his left arm dislocated and hanging useless, Allen was still a formidable foe, but what can you do with one less hand than your opponent?

It didn’t take long for Allen to find himself on the ground, staring up the barrel of the synth’s sidearm.

But the shot that rang out wasn't that a laser weapon, it was a high caliber revolver, one that Liam was particularly fond of.

Outnumbered and outmatched, the synth did what he needed to do - and ran.

Allen tried to give chase, but there were other matters to attend to, and as much as it pained him...today, Quincy came first.

* * *

 

At first there was noise, enough to shake the Commonwealth, the celebration in the Castle could be heard in Diamond City.

But people don’t really remember the moments after a party, when all that’s left is the host and anyone he may live with. People don’t remember the come-down - they forget what it’s like to just lie around a fire and think.

* * *

 

Liam thought he was the only one awake, an unimportant detail, but it explained why he was talking to himself.

“If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand forget its skill, may my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I forget you.”

Liam was lying on his back, staring up at the night sky, his hand above him, as if his prayers were scripted on his palm.

Allen was the first to interrupt Liam’s musing.

“What’s that mean?” he asked, turning over to show Liam his open eyes and less than tired demeanor.

Liam let his arm fall onto his chest.

“It means…” Liam paused, testing his words, “It means something else for someone else, but to me,” he turned to look at Allen, “It means I’d rather forget my skills, my trade, than forget who I used to be, where I came from, and what home means.”

Allen nodded thoughtfully.

From nearby, Piper spoke up. “Why do you do that?” She pulled the hat from over her eyes. “I see you do that every now and again.”

“I’m a priest,” Liam explained.

“Chaplin,” John corrected, his voice muffled by his arm, which he was using as a pillow.

“You’re religious?” Piper asked, incredulous.

“Surprised me to,” Lauren admitted, “to be honest.”

“Okay,” Liam sat up, looking around the camp, “Would everyone who’s awake and plans on staying awake please declare themselves?”

There was a quick chorus as everyone, save John and Glory, admitted to their insomnia.

“So, what brings this verse to mind?” Allen backtracked, “Homesick?”

Liam scoffed at the mere thought “Not hardly,” Liam lifted his arm towards the sky again, as if his fingers were pulled by a string, “It was Murray’s favorite verse.”

“Dennis was religious?” Piper asked.

“Academic curiosity, I’d wager,” Liam mused, his fingers plucking at his palms, “Mixed with a poet's flair for the dramatic.”

“Why that verse?” Allen asked, “He didn’t seem like a homebody.”

“Some things stay between a priest and his people.”

“Chaplin.” John corrected again, his voice still muffled.

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny,” Liam said, a grin spreading across his face.

“I never hated Dennis.” Lauren reminisced, “He didn’t think much of my hobbies, but he saw the value in me. Never took me out of the fight, saw the ‘strength of my conviction’ as he called it.” She smiled wistfully, “He was a better man than he seemed.”

“That’s all we can hope for,” Liam said, letting his arm fall to the ground. “That our last moment’s a good one.”

On that cheerful note, everyone started trying to get some sleep again.

Liam was the last to fall asleep that night. The last thing he did before finally getting some rest was to scratch six tallies into the dirt, then quickly wipe them away.

* * *

 

Eventually, when history books become a thing again, 2281 will have its own chapter.

But for now, all it is, is news. And like all news, it can get lost in the wake of the next story. For the moment, Allen, the Minutemen, the Regulators, are all heroes.

But the public opinion turns on a dime, and while eventually, when the historians ply their trade and find the truth, they’ll all become known as heroes again, in the coming days...things got more complicated than that.


	10. Which side are you on

  
  


The impact sounds of Liam and Allen sparing reverberated in the dawning light of Sanctuary Hills.

“You’re pick up the pace, Marks,” Liam commented in between blocks of Allen’s knife hand, “Something you want to tell me?”

Liam’s breathing was insultingly steady, a stark contrast to Allen’s labored breaths.

“If I want to take down a courser,” Allen panted out, “I’ll need to get better.”

His point was emphasised when Liam quickly disarmed him.

“You don’t need to be stronger -”

Liam tried for a downward strike, but the motion was redirected, Allen forcing him to overshoot and pulling his arm behind him. Allen then wrapped his arm around Liam's neck and pulled his torso back.

In most circumstances, this would have been the end of the fight, but with his free hand, Liam punched Allen in the gut, and freed himself, quickly taking the advantage.

“You need to be smarter,” Liam finished his earlier point, relaxing his stance and going for a bottle of water. “Why are you so obsessed with coursers anyway?”

He tossed the bottle to Allen, only for it to bounce off of his hunched over back.

“They’re the first thing I’ve come across that I couldn’t take down,” Allen explained, “Can’t let one escape again.”

Liam shrugged and gave a few non-committal grunts.

“What?” Allen demanded, “Two hundred years and smart-ass hasn’t changed one bit.”

“Nothing,” Liam insisted, massaging his hands, “It just seems like you’d have bigger priority than coursers.”

“The road to my son,” Allen countered, “leads through the coursers. I have no choice but to be ready for them.”

“There are more dangers in the ‘Wealth than just the Institute, Marks. It’s time we talk about the one I came here for.”

“If you think I’m going to lead the Minutemen against the Brotherhood, after everything with the Gunners, then you’re out of your goddamn mind.” Allen said, having finally regained his composure and moving to stand toe to toe with Liam.

“I came here because the Brotherhood is my responsibility,” Liam said, “I’m not leaving until I’m certain they’ll be dealt with.”

“Then I guess we have a bit of an issue here.”

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

With that, Liam lit a cigarette and walked away.

Allen soon followed , there were still things to say between them.

* * *

 

Dawn eventually turned to dusk, but the tension in Sanctuary had only grown.

“Something’s wrong with Liam,” Lauren gossiped to Piper, watching Liam and Allen glare daggers at each other over the campfire. “He has that look in his eye, the one before he burns some shit to the ground.”

“Allen doesn’t look too much better,” Piper observed, “He seems...blank.”

“We’re all about to have a very bad night, aren't we?” Lauren asked. The question was clearly rhetorical.

In lieu of Piper answering the question, the sudden arrival of vertibird did that for everyone.

The brief hope that this had been one of the vertibirds the Minutemen had commandeered from the gunners was quickly squashed.

“Danse,” Liam greeted the man as he emerged from the vertibird, “I’m actually glad you’re alive.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Danse retorted,

“No, it’s true,” Liam insisted, “Shooting a dead man just doesn’t feel the same.”

“Liam!” Allen shouted, interrupting the pissing contest, “That’s enough.”

Liam turned to him.m “Please tell me you didn’t invite them here.”

“You do realize you’re harboring an enemy of the Brotherhood,” Danse said to Allen.

“You’re the enemy of the Brotherhood,” Liam retorted, “The true Brotherhood, Lyon’s Brotherhood.”

“That’s enough,” Allen repeated, “They’re here on my invitation. I’ve let my responsibilities slide for too long.”

Allen and Danse made for the Vertibird.

“Hey!” Liam reached out and pulled Allen around, “I didn’t come this far just to watch you bend over for the Brotherhood.”

Allen ignored Liam and carried on his way.

“Murray didn’t die for this!” It was all Liam had to say, shouting it at the now airborne Vertibird.

* * *

 

While loud, the rhythmic whirring of the vertibird blades was almost lulling. Under different circumstances, Allen would have been relaxed by the noise around him, and his anxiety did not go unnoticed by Danse. He had met with Maxson and the conversation had left him uneasy.

“You’re troubled,” he observed, “Having doubts?”

“Just reconciling,” Allen replied, “Liam Wilson saved a lot of my men during our conflict with the Gunners. It’s hard to reconcile that man with the enemy Maxon described.”

Maxon had given Agent Marks simple orders - get the Regulators out of the Commonwealth or kill them. He had been given a small squad of backup and had been sent on his way.

“Maxon tends to paint all enemies of the Brotherhood with the same brush,” Danse admitted.

“Not you?”

“Wilson helped tear the Enclave down, brick by brick,” Danse explained, “He helped bring clean water to the entire wasteland.” A troubled expression painted Danse’s face then, “He might be the Brotherhood’s enemy, but that doesn’t make him ‘the’ enemy.”

“Does that seem right to you?” Allen asked, “to put ourselves at odds with a good man just because his ideals run counter to ours?”

“Wilson won’t hesitate to kill us all,” Danse reminded, “This is self defense.”

“Just get me home,” Allen demanded, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, “I’ll take it from there.”

The vertibird’s occupants fell into an uneasy silence, which lasted for only a handful of minutes.

“We’re receiving a distress signal!” The pilot suddenly announced, “It’s Cambridge Police Station.”

“Bring us in!” Danse ordered before turning to the squad, “Load up, we’re going in weapons hot.”

The dark of the night concealed much, but it wasn’t so dark they couldn't make out the sight of Gauss rifle shots and the very distinctive sounds it made.

By the time the vertibird landed, the station had gone quiet, which might have been a good sign if it weren’t for Liam meeting them on the roof, against a backdrop of dead Brotherhood soldiers.

“Liam,” Agent Marks said, mouth agape, “What the hell have you done?”

“What you lack the balls to do.” Liam taunted, “and fulfilling the promise I made when I came here.”

Liam turned away, only to be stopped by the sound of Agent Marks and his squad readying their weapons.

“I should have put you down earlier,” Danse said, sighting Liam, “I guess I let sentiment get the better of me.”

“I should name my gun sentiment then.”

A shot rang out from Liam’s rifle, striking Danse square in the head.

In the half second it took for Allen to recover from the shock, Liam was already halfway to the edge of the roof, and by the time Allen got a shot off, the other man had leapt off the roof and disappeared into the shadows.

One of the knights barked out, “We should go after him!”

“No!” Agent Marks ordered, “He’ll just separate us for an ambush. We go back to Sanctuary, we lock up his teammates, eventually he’ll come back for them.” He left no room for argument, “We are going to fight this on our terms.”

On his way back to the Vertibird, Agent Marks took a moment to consider the now headless body of Paladin Danse before moving on - because that’s what agent’s did, they moved on and got the job done.


	11. Rebels with a cause

 

How many times does a man get to say “trust me” before he starts asking too much?

“General, why do we need to lock up the regulators?”

“Trust me.”

“Tell me the old bastard isn’t actually siding with the Brotherhood.”

“Just trust me.”

“Why are we waiting on the bridge.”

“Trust me, Knight, I know what I’m doing.”

Thus far, Allen and Piper hadn’t so much as made eye contact.

“I don’t really want to do this,” Allen suddenly confessed to the reporter quietly, so that the knights standing watch near them wouldn’t overhear.

“Then why are you?” she asked, looking over the horizon, “Cause, and I mean this as nicely as possible, it doesn’t seem like there's a thing in this world to make you do something you don’t want to.”

“Maxon isn’t going to let me apologize and let bygones be bygones,” Allen explained and if Piper was looking, she would have seen his eyes and the layers beneath. “It’s either this or war with the Brotherhood.”

“Weren’t we already preparing for that?”

“Not here,” he shook his head, “Not now.”

“And if I tell you to stop?” she asked, still pointedly not looking at her friend, “That I won’t stand by you for this?”

“I’m locked in, Piper, I need to stop this,” Allen pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, as if wiping grime from them. “The next little bit won’t be my best, but please trust me, wait until the end and if you still hate me, than you never have to see me again.”

Finally, Piper turned to Allen. Maybe she had a plan, had something to say, but she recognized the look in his eyes. The reluctant resignation, whatever he was planning, whatever he wasn’t telling her, there was no way she was going to stop him.

The night continued on, and everyone stood by the bridge waiting, simply waiting.

“Are you sure that he’s not going to sneak in?” one of the knights asked, “We’re banking a lot on him taking the front entrance.”

“Liam’s a lot of things,” Agent Marks replied, shifting in place, “Subtle’s not one of them. If we throw down the gauntlet, he’ll pick it up.”

It was sunrise when Liam finally arrived at Sanctuary.

‘Hey gang,” he shouted from his side of the bridge. “All this for me? I’m flattered.”

“Leave this to me,” Agent Marks ordered his squad, stepping forward and addressing Liam, “You have no idea what kind of shitstorm you’ve started!”

“Yeah, I’ve started a war with the Brotherhood,” Liam confirmed, also stepping forward, “There’s a right and a wrong side of history here, I expected you to choose right.”

“You expected me to get my people killed?” Agent Marks asked, “Expected me to let good people die fighting good people?”

“I expected you to have balls,” Liam said, finally meeting his counterpart in the middle, “Guess I should have known better.” He wiped at his brow, “Just for the sake of asking, just to say I tried, is there any way out of this with both of us alive?”

The spy  shook his head, “We’re all guilty now, simply by harboring you. Either I kill you or Maxon starts a war.”

Liam only shrugged. “With any luck, they’ll say I tried.”

They drew their knives, and the fight began

There are few things more unnatural than the hesitation of a fearless man, but that was all this fight was, hesitation and tentative probing strikes.

Agent Marks circled Liam, occasionally reaching forward to attempt an attack, but he almost seemed afraid to get to close. Each time he tried, Liam struck out, his dagger akin to a snake’s fang, longing to sink into this clever little mongoose.

But just as reluctant as he was to close the gap, so was Liam to throw himself forward. All he had to do was expose his back, and soon he’d find a dagger in his spine. So the Agent circled and the Lone Wanderer spun in place and each time the former tried to go for a kill, the latter caught another piece.

It wasn’t much, small cuts along the hands and arms, but it was enough to get him to drop his knife.

Liam finally showed his teeth.

But it was as if each of Agent Marks’s limbs had their own mind. No matter how quickly Liam tried to catch a bit, they moved out of the way just a little bit faster. This came with it’s own drawbacks, as soon there was no more room between Allen and the water, but all it took was one sloppy swing of Liam’s dagger, and he swung them around so that it was Liam on the edge.

Liam panicked and tried for a desperate downward strike, but Agent Markscaught Liam's wrist with his forearm, stopping the strike in its place. With his free hand, Agent Marks pushed the blade down and with both Liam’s and his own strength, caught Liam in the gut.

The Lone wanderer took a surprised step back and fell into the river.

The bubbles hadn’t even stopped popping when Agent Marks turned away and met back up with the Brotherhood knights.

“Get to the vertibird,” he ordered, “We go back to Maxon, now.” He turned to Preston, “Send one of the Regulators home. Tell them that Regulators are no longer welcome in the Commonwealth” With that, he moved to follow the knights to the vertibird.

Preston called after him, “Only one, what about the other?”

Agent Marks paused only for a moment. “What are you supposed to do with people who don’t need to be alive?”

* * *

 

Loyalty is a funny thing. When you feel it, it feels unshakeable, eternal, but the fact of the matter is that loyalty is easily shaken, especially when you’re loyal to a person, a person with faults, who can act rashly.

Allen wasn’t gone for so much as a minute before much of the loyalty he had earned, was shattered.

In fact, his vertibird hadn’t even lifted off, and with only the whirring of the blades to mask his words, Preston started defying a man he once thought had earned his undying loyalty.

“Get Liam out of that water,” he whispered to Glory, “Quick as you can.”

Glory nodded and ran off.

“Alert the infirmary,” he said to Piper who also nodded and took off, “I want the Regulators here to have round the clock protection.”

Liam was still breathing when he was dragged out of the water, though he was barely breathing when he had been set on the infirmary table.

Liam wasn’t breathing when Percival arrived.

* * *

 

“No! No! Goddamnit, you will listen!”

Two Brotherhood knights stood guard outside of the conference room where Maxon and Allen were currently arguing.

“I will not let you hold my people accountable for the actions of one man!”

“You harbored an enemy of the Brotherhood!”

“It’s your fault for leaving him alive!”

“Watch your tone, Knight!”

“That’s General to you, Maxon.”

The knights outside winced. “If you want to come into my home and take down the Institute, that’s fine, but I will not let you hold us accountable for the actions of the Capital Wasteland.”

“You court war with the Brotherhood, Knight.”

“And you risk your primary mission, Elder. Would you really risk letting the Institute continue because you threw good lives away fighting the Minutemen?”

This went on, until finally both Maxon and Allen left the room, looking unhappy and tired, but lacking the rage they had felt seen coming in.

“The Elder and I had a frank exchange of views,” Allen explained as the knights escorted him to the bridge, “And while we determined that, while I have not exactly covered myself in glory, I will still serve the Brotherhood, not as a knight, but as it’s ally in the Minutemen. Needless to say, I need a ride back to Sanctuary Hills.”

* * *

 

Liam was breathing again, small mercies.

Percival would have taken offense to it being called luck, but it was better than “miracle.”

Liam was alive, and barring any dramatic changes, he was going to stay that way. With John on a rooftop a couple hundred yards away, and Lauren refusing to leave Liam’s side, he was protected from most dramatic changes, however, the sounds of an incoming vertibird did not bode well for Liam’s immediate future.

“Stay inside,” Preston ordered Lauren, going outside to greet Allen, who hadn’t even waited for the vertibird to fully settle before hopping out and dismissing the Brotherhood.

“Where's Liam?” Allen demanded,

“General, you’ve crossed a…” Preston started to accuse him, before being cut off.

“Yes, I know,” Allen dismissed, “but I also know you fished Liam out of the water as soon as you could, is he alive? Where is he?” Allen made his way to the infirmary, before stopped by a plasma shot cutting off his path.

“He could have hit you, you know.” Lauren warned, coming out of the infirmary, and approaching Allen, “And you won’t so much as touch Liam. The only reason we haven’t killed you now is…”

“Lauren!” Liam shouted from the door, “Is that Marks!” His steps were labored but purposeful as he approached.

“Liam, you dumb mother-” Was all Allen managed to get out before catching a collapsing Liam.

“Yeah, I know,” Liam reassured him, trying to give Allen a hug, but managing only to weigh the poor man down. “But your idea sucked anyway. ‘Pretend to snap my neck,’ even the Brotherhood’s not so stupid as to not check your work.”

Clearly, the two men knew something everyone else didn’t.

* * *

Allen had to explain himself.

“The fact of the matter, is that Brotherhood operations will always come first to the Brotherhood.”

He and Liam were on trial. Perhaps not literally but something close to it. Preston and the Minutemen, Glory and the Railroad, Piper, and the Regulators were all eager to hear Allen and Liam justify themselves.

Well, everyone except John. John was asleep.

“Okay, with you so far,” Preston prodded.

“But despite that, they’re too dangerous to have as an enemy right now, and even an imperfect ally is still an ally,” Allen concluded, “but by going so long without directly working with them and by allowing enemies of the Brotherhood safe harbor in the Commonwealth -”

“You risked your Alliance,” Liam concluded, from the infirm sickbed, “So Handcuff here needed to do something dramatic to prove his loyalty, and since no one believed that he would just turn on us for no reason -”

“And since him attacking a Minuteman outpost is out of the question.”

“I needed to do something dramatic.”

“Like attack a Brotherhood outpost,” Glory deduced, everyone's eyes turning to her, “Sorry am I interrupting?”

“Which served two purposes,” Allen continued, “The one we mentioned and also to delay the Brotherhood’s rise to power. Maxon and my arrangement has allowed me to continue to pursue to Institute on my own terms.”

“And has maintained to tentative peace, between the Brotherhood and the Minutemen.” Liam concluded, “Questions, comments, concerns?” He offered the room.

“Just one.” Glory said, cutting off Preston who had just been about to speak, “Just to clarify, we’re not actually going to remain buddies to the Brotherhood, right?” She looked to Allen.

“There is no version of this story that allows the Brotherhood to operate here long term,” he reassured her. Glory nodded, seeming happy with this compromise.

“Did you really have to be so convincing?” Preston demanded, “‘What do you do with someone who doesn’t need to be alive?’” he quoted, “Really? What if I had followed your orders?”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Allen responded, “I’m sorry, Preston, but I needed you to act against me, to fish Liam out of the River and get him treated. Any half measures and I risked you reluctantly following my lead.”

“I take it being stabbed wasn’t a part of the plan,” Lauren observed, sitting as close to Liam as possible

“Marks wanted to pretend to snap my neck.” Liam scoffed, “So I improved upon the plan.”

“You have no regard for your own safety, do you?” Lauren asked, though her demeanor was soft, as if this were an old habit of theirs.

“Hello, I’m Liam Wilson, glad to meet you.”  He laughed and gave Lauren a half-hearted wave before changing direction.

“John,” he called, waking the young man up, “You’ve been quiet, thoughts?”

“Did it work?” John mumbled out through a yawn.

Allen responded, “Yes.”

“We’re good.” John was back to sleep.

Liam shook his head at the man. “Good ol’ John.”

“Follow his example,” Allen ordered, “Tonight we get you and yours out of the Commonwealth. After all, this only works if Maxon thinks you’re dead.”

Allen and Co. filed out of the infirmary, leaving the Regulators to rest.

“Glory,” Allen turned to her, “Can you head back to HQ? Let the boss know I’ll be returning to active duty in a few days.”

Glory nodded, gave a casual salute, and walked away.

“I take it Montgomery is going to be in charge again?” Preston asked.

“If that’s alright,” Allen replied.

Preston gave a vague shrug and walked away, leaving just Allen and Piper.

“He’s going to be upset for a while, isn’t he?” Piper asked.

“Probably,” Allen rubbed the bridge of his nose, “People don’t like being manipulated, even if you have the best of reasons.” He looked at Piper pointedly. “I’d understand if you’re mad.”

“Are we at the end?” Piper asked. Allen just tilted his head. “You said ‘the next little bit won’t be my best,’ and told me to ‘wait until the end’” she reminded him, scratching her shoulder, “Are we at the end?”

“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “we’re at the end.”

If he was expecting the hug that followed, he didn’t show it, his body tense, and his arms high above his head as if declaring surrender.

“Blue,” Piper murmured against Allen, his nickname noticeably relaxing him, “I’m not happy, but I’m pretty sure you’re not either. And if this is war like you said, then I’m pretty sure you’re never supposed to be happy in war.”

“No,” Allen agreed, wrapping his arms around Piper and patting her head, “I’m not, and we’re not supposed to be.”

“Then I guess we’ll both be unhappy, but it will be the both of us,” Piper promised, “Cause I’m locked in, Blue, and I trust you.” She pressed her cheek against him, before pulling back a bit. “Just give me a signal next time alright, something to say ‘I’m still me, I’m still your Blue.’”

“It’s a promise.”

* * *

 

They left that night, just Allen, Piper, and the Regulators.

It was slow and quiet going. Liam’s injury and their constant listening for the whir of Vertibird blades slowed their pace dramatically.

It was an hour into daylight when they made it to the outskirts and decided that it was time to part ways.

“It was a pleasure meeting the three of you,” Piper said, shaking John's hand and giving Lauren a quick hug, “Even you, Liam.” She gave the man quick two fingered salute, to which he responded with a single crude fingered salute.

“He means well,” Lauren reassured her, swatting Liam's head.

“More than I don’t,” he confirmed.

Allen’s farewells were a tad more involved.

“You’ll look after that gun, right?”

Allen pointed to the plasma rifle on John’s back and the man just nodded and grunted his assent.

“I’ll clean it every day.”

“Look after the idiot,” Allen requested of Lauren, who turned down his handshake in favor of quick but affectionate hug.

“Always. Look after yourself, Allen, men like you are one in a million, don’t waste your own chances.”

Finally, there was just Liam and Allen. The two men turned to each other as their compatriots fell back; it wasn’t quite out of hearing distance, given Liam’s tendency to shout, but it was the thought that counted.

“Where are they off to?” Allen wondered, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I think that they think we’ve bonded over our mutual feeling of the weight of the world on our shoulders.”

“Oh,” Allen said, “Did we?”

Liam gave a non-committal mumble.

“More or less,” he said, before breaking out in a grin, one breifly mirrored by Allen.

“I appreciate the trust you’re showing in me,” Allen told him, inclining his head in thanks.

“You earned it,” Liam said with a shrug, “I’m a lot of things, not all of them pleasant, but I’m willing to admit when I’m wrong. There's a lot of shit here,” he offered his trademark half-grin, “But you can handle it.”

“Any advice?”

Allen’s skull bandana concealed the smile he tried to bare to hide all the little emotions bottled up, and if Liam was any less good at poker, he would have been fooled. But Allen’s hazel eyes betrayed a touch of fear.

“Would you actually be willing to take it?” Liam asked, playing along with Allen’s bravado.

“I’m a learner.”

“None, at least as far as the Brotherhood’s concerned.”  Liam traced the brim of his hat. “But I’ve got a bit of a warning for you, but you’re not gonna like it.”

“I’ve never been one to run from harsh truths.”

Liam nodded, putting his hands in his pockets before taking them out and crossing them, hands under his armpits.

“It’s not gonna work,” he said.

“What’s not?” Allen tilted his head, this time in confusion.

“ _ It _ ,” Liam emphasised, “You, your son, rebuilding his life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, Allen,” Liam placed a hand on Allen’s shoulder, “God hates men like us, he truly does.” He let the hand fall to his side, “Everything we have, he takes. Everything we want, he puts just out of reach.” He shook his head, “And every good thing we manage to take back is sullied and it’s always our fault. Always.” Liam was building up his head of steam, but with a quick shake of his head, he stopped. “Whatever you have at the end of this story, it won’t be what you’re looking for.”

“Maybe,” Allen allowed, “Maybe, but it’s all I got.” He covered his eyes with the palms of his hand, “It’s all I got keeping me grounded and I can’t just let it go. And if there's a chance, even if it’s one in a million, that I can get my boy back,” his hands fell to his side, “then dammit, I will.”

“Then I wish you luck,” Liam said, holding out his hand for Allen to shake.

“I don’t need luck.” Allen shook Liam's hand, lifted it to eye level, and turned away.

Both Lauren and Piper turned to their friends as they approached.

“What was that about?”

“Just saying goodbye,” the men responded, one retying his bandana, the other adjusting his hat.

* * *

 

Scientifically speaking, there was no such thing as a unique occurrence. Even if lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, it will continue to strike.

Despite that, there is uniqueness to every occurence, an allotment of errors and changes. It’s why every study is repeated dozens, maybe hundreds of times, to make sure the results are reliable.

Liam’s story was his own. Allen’s story will be his own. And while there will be overlap, and similarities, there was, and will be, differences.

There are always differences.


	12. You'll never walk alone

 

“Correct me if I am wrong, monsieur,” Curie said, following Allen along the river, “But is it not customary that it is to be on my birthday that I am given a birthday present?”

Allen, Piper, and Curie, were making a detour, one last stop before going back to their own      lives - Allen to the Railroad and Piper to Diamond City.

“Well, I don’t know when your birthday is,” Allen admitted, the the walls of Covenant appearing, “And this isn’t exactly the kind of gift that can wait.”

“When is your birthday, monsieur?” Curie asked.

“April 1st.”

“Surely you jest?”

“Why?” Piper interrupted, “What's strange about April 1st?”

“It’s April Fools day,” Allen answered for Curie, “Back in the day, it was a day to play jokes on people.” He turned to Curie, “But no, I don’t jest. It’s really April 1st.”

By this point, they had arrived at the doors of Covenant, but Allen briefly barred their way, pulling his bandana off of his face.

“So, if you’d indulge my dramatic side for a moment,” he slowly opened the doors, “Welcome to ‘Commonwealth Community Hospital’”

“Monsieur?” was all Curie was capable of saying before Allen whisked the duo away on a guided tour.

“With the Gunners off the board, our trade routes between settlements are more secure,” Allen explained, “Since then, the hungry have had more food, the thirsty more water, but it doesn’t end there.”

Allen showed them through what had once been the houses of Covenant, now ‘wings’ of a hospital.

“Sometimes people can recover on their own, sometimes they need a doctor. With luck this can give that to them.” He motioned to an assembled group of white jackets, among them Percival. “The Minutemen still need medics, but there are those too old, or too injured, or just without the skills to fight, they will make up your team.”

“My team?” Curie repeated, pointing at herself.

“Yours,” Allen confirmed,.“Percival will help you get acquainted,” he said, gently pushing Curie towards the man.

“What of you?” Curie asked, turning back to the man.

“I’ve got work to do,” he said with a wave of his hand, “But don’t worry, I’ll be back to check in every now and again.” He gave one last grin before retying his bandana and making a swift exit, Piper on his heels.

“I know that look in your eyes,” Piper said, as soon as they had left, “You’re hoping Curie didn’t notice something, what are you up to?” While not accusatory, her tone didn’t leave much room for deflection.

“Nothing sinister,” Allen insisted, before rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just,” He let out a melodramatic sigh, “It’s just that, if I’ve learned anything over the last month, it’s that I’m in over my head.”

“You’re just now realizing this?”

“I know, I know,” a touch of amusement colored his eyes, “I guess I thought that I was just smarter, or stronger, or a better shot than anything else in the ‘Wealth.” He shook his head, “This has been a real wake up call. If I can’t keep everyone around me safe, then the next best thing is to give the people I care about a safe place to be.”

“And that’s why the hospital?” Piper clarified, “Just to keep Curie safe.”

“Well, we also needed a hospital. I’m opportunistic like that.”

“What about me?” Piper asked, fidgeting with her hands, “Are you gonna ‘opportunistically’ keep me safe somewhere else?”

Allen rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I’m not gonna lie and say there won’t be times I’d rather you stay somewhere safe, but as long as I can make room, there's a place for you here.” He motioned vaguely around him.

“Thanks, Blue.”

“Your still going to stay in Diamond city for the next few weeks, right?”

“Someone's gotta tell the Gunner War story.”

“So who am I gonna be in this one?”

“Nathan Hale.”

They kept talking all the way to Diamond city, at which point Allen had to practically drag himself away from the gates, and back to the Old North Church.


End file.
